


The Commodore's Wife

by lafemmedisparu



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Adaptation, Anachronism, Compromise, F/M, Family, Female Captain, Golden Age of Piracy, Marriage, Partnership, Protectiveness, Teamwork, The Royal Navy, Time traveler, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 110,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3869035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafemmedisparu/pseuds/lafemmedisparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eternally your sun, your shield, your bolstering wind. The non-linear tale of Commodore Norrington and the woman he chose. Willabeth, Norribeth friendship, James/OC. ************UPDATED AND RESTRUCTURED*************</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vow

**0.0** – _Vow_

She still didn’t know how he managed to talk her into this.

Her life had ensued quite unfathomably over the past several months. She had existed as the female captain of a pirate ship for nearly eleven of her twenty-seven years and knew nothing else—and when he entered her existence, with his rules, and laws, and damn— _those shackles!_ —he single-handedly demolished the architecture of her life.

In the midst of her attempts to rebuild, she found that he was there like an emotional battle-ax—so coined by the cynical part of her that had protected her all of those perilous years. His intrusions were unwelcome, at best. She wondered how she kept from slugging him with the handle of her sword.

Later, she realized that her sense of honor prevented her from reacting in such a way. A little bit later than that, she realized that she…had feelings for him.

He counseled her through the bemusing transition between her old and new life—despite there not being much of a new life yet. In the confines of the front yard of the house she shared with her sisters, trust and affection grew.

And then one evening out of the blue, he’d ejaculated that question into the air.

She’d covered her shock with bluster. “I hardly believe someone like you could take on someone like me as your life companion.”

The look that he had given her contained some parts affection, nerves, and—dare she admit—challenge. “I will be the judge of that, Captain.”

The descent had been slippery ever since.

Here she was, sitting on a stool in her old bedroom (one of her sisters would inherit it now) and musing on her journey. She barely registered the gentle but competent hands fashioning flowers into her hair for the ceremony. The thin chemise that she wore to avoid complete nudity grew thinner with her growing perspiration.

The hands paused. “Sister, are you all right?”

She inhaled. “I admit to a bit of dread for the impending event.”

From the other side of the room, a svelte brunette, newly married herself, presented a goblet. The bride accepted it with a smidgen of surprise. The two locked eyes, passing mutual understanding. One of the many marvels of this life: new friends.

With a bit of her usual spunk, she turned up the goblet and downed the liquid in one gulp. There, now she felt a little less like a fish gasping on arid sand.

“It’s growing late,” someone said frantically. “Where is the dress?”

As if on cue, a petite, mocha-skinned young woman entered, carrying a large white box. “Lawd y’all need to be more patient,” grumbled the bearer. “I said I’d be here so here I am.”

“This is going to be interesting,” someone remarked, to which our plucky newcomer responded with what she coined as her beatdown face. She didn’t take too kindly to people who doubted her dependability.

The young woman had puzzled over the dress. She had insisted that this occasion called for something dressier than the garb she usually donned for mundane life. She promised she would make sure the end result would not cause the bride any undue embarrassment. Now as she placed the large box on the table laden with jewelry and fabric, the bride wondered if she had been overcome with temporary insanity.

The women gathered as the bearer explained her reasoning for choosing the dress. The bride rose from her seat and went to open it, able to wait no longer. She lifted the lid on the box, aware of the heavy silence that had fallen.

And then there it was. Her dress.

Everyone marveled over its simple beauty until practicality reigned; the ceremony would ensue very soon, and still the bride was under-dressed. They quickly dressed their comrade in her marital armor, bequeathing the bouquet upon her shaking hands before dispersing to their appointed areas.

With flowers in hand, she hazarded a glance at herself in the large gilt mirror across the room. The woman who stared back at her appeared nothing like her at first look. When she peered harder at her reflection she spied the fear, the unworthiness. “Bloody hell—it’s really happening,” she breathed, then closed her eyes and fought for calm. When she felt steady enough to emerge, she made her descent to the backyard.

The strains of violin notes hit her first, and she had to take a deep breath to right herself against the coming tide of emotion. A part of her felt silly at the hesitation. She had traveled the Earth, grappled with the mightiest of foes, delivered herself and her crew from dangerous predicaments, and yet this...

“Into the fray, Captain,” she murmured to herself.

When she raised her eyes, she found her backyard—former, now that she would be taking up new residence—covered in blooms and candlelight. Its simple splendor far outshone any of the opulence her groom had been under the misconception that she wanted. The handful of guests they had allowed to be present for the event observed her procession with awe and her gaze rested on them momentarily until—

There he was.

It took every modicum of self-control she possessed not to buckle in the middle of the aisle when she saw him, her soon-to-be husband. He wore his naval regalia minus the hat (which she deplored) but the powdered wig was present and accounted for (a reasonable concession to his rank). His green eyes alighted with an emotion she recognized: terror.

You and me both, Commodore, she thought, and relaxed fractionally. They were on the same ship—so to speak. It helped to know she wasn’t alone.

When he held out his hand to help her onto the altar, her lips curved in a knowing smile. _Only this once._

He corrected her silently, solemnly. _No, actually. Always._

Damn him. That was when the first tear from the tempest she had been suppressing all damn day—all damn week even—slid down her cheek. He squeezed her hand, a gesture more bolstering and less embarrassing than him wiping away her tears in front of the observers.

They turned toward the priest, an united front. Even after they recited their vows and exchanged rings, the full enormity of their new state had not made itself plain. It was only when he looked down at her amid the congratulatory clamor and remarked _Good evening, Mistress Norrington_ did the weight register.

She gasped out a chuckle and shot back, “It’s still Captain, Commodore. Me answering to that moniker remains to be seen.”

The Commodore’s expression was one of a man with something to prove. “We shall see about that, darling.”

The self-proclaimed Captain pressed her lips together to hide her smirk. _Ah yes—this would be interesting._


	2. Boundaries

**1.0** \- _Boundaries_

Commodore James Norrington considered himself an intelligent fellow.

When he had met Captain Raul Jay, known under his—ahem, their—roof as Jessica, for the first time, he sensed that he had not crossed an ordinary woman. Amid her physical prowess existed a mental acuity that stunned him. But it was her tenacity that made him keep her in sight.

It also led him to marriage proposal he'd made spontaneously...but he wouldn't admit that to his darling wife because he feared she would comprehend his intentions in the wrong manner. And thus impart some painful and emasculating punishment with her bare hands. He hardly needed the mangled genitalia.

After their small ceremony in her backyard, the Commodore and his new wife took a sojourn before assuming their mundane lives together. Jessica found herself with an entirely new household to maintain—a household that had been male dominated. He had hoped that the new challenge would be entrancing enough.

Needless to say he had not judged his new wife correctly.

The day began normally with nothing amiss. The plans had been simple: take care of necessary duties at Fort Charles, have lunch with his wife, more work, and then go home. When he kissed her that morning in farewell, little did he know what wheels were turning in her cavernous brain.

After the adventure that had landed them traveling the Atlantic for several weeks and taking on a supernatural being, Norrington sought new recruits to replenish the ranks that he had lost. He expressed this desire and his concerns with his wife idly, conversationally, not thinking that she would actually do anything about it. The mere idea would be preposterous.

Which is why he should have seen it coming.

At nearly noon, Lieutenant Theodore Groves barged into his office without preamble. Norrington could tell something was amiss due to the high color in his pale cheeks but tried mightily not to jump to conclusions.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” Norrington inquired.

_Pause._ Groves, a man of much more confidence than was displayed currently, hesitated before launching his opening statement. “I apologize in advance, sir. But...it's your wife.”

A million calamities descended and exploded in his head like nano-grenades. He imagined her dead, alive but mangled, armless, legless, blind, deaf, carried off by burly pirates, seduced by Jack Sparrow (bloody hell), and captured by the Crown within the split seconds it took him to respond.

“Elaborate, Lieutenant,” Norrington pressed, rising to his feet. “Where is she?”

“With the new trainees, sir,” Groves answered. “In the main courtyard.”

Commodore Norrington promptly rounded his desk and exited the room. Groves followed, barely keeping up with Norrington's long, ground-eating strides. Sensing Groves still with him, Norrington inquired briskly, “Is she in any danger?”

“To be honest, sir, it depends on what sort of danger you mean. If you are asking if she is in danger of getting hurt I would say it is much less than the danger of her inflicting hurt.”

His worry dovetailed into exasperation. “Oh bloody hell,” he spat as he heard the telltale sound of metal against metal. “How did this occur?”

“Not entirely for certain. I believe her intention was to come to your office but she was accosted by some of the trainees. My guess is she wanted to teach them a lesson.”

Frustrated that his wife was taking matters into her own hands, Commodore Norrington entered the courtyard. Before his eyes, his beloved wife took on five untrained navy midshipmen—while clad in a skirt. She charged and parried, shifted her weight once or twice to set the young men stumbling on one another. Her face was a study in ferocity. When one dropped his sword, she scooped it up into her grasp and used it to subdue two of the others. With two left, she feigned jabbing one in the heart and knocked the last one on his back in two swift movements. Nicollette was in the crowd cradling a package (his lunch most likely) and doing her best impression of Arsenio Hall.

_“I sincerely **beg your pardon**.”_

Everyone froze, Jessica included. The point of the sword rested benignly under the offending midshipman's chin. When she raised her eyes to her husband's, she spied exasperation most prominently in their depths.

With a move that was more graceful than swift, she sheathed the sword and handed the other back to its rightful owner. The former victim climbed to his feet and stood at attention for his superior. Jessica merely waited for her husband to speak.

"Mrs. Norrington—" the Commodore began.

"Captain," Jessica interrupted tersely.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Mrs. Norrington, are you aware that this area is off limits to those of the female gender during training?" Norrington demanded.

Jessica didn't even blink while the rest of the men held their breaths. "No, I was not aware, darling." Her husband's mouth tightened. "I would promise not to do it again, but..." Then she shrugged. "Well, I took a vow not to lie to you did I not?"

The Commodore's eyes sharpened with fury. An audible ripple went through the room.

"Oh shit," Nicollette muttered and decided to hide where she could still observe but not be assaulted with blood spatter.

"The vow was to obey," Norrington boomed, his voice growing resonant and forbidding.

Jessica's chin lifted in a gesture of defiance. "I remember my vows, Commodore. However I fail to understand the offense you are taking to my presence here."

"You. Don't. Belong here," Norrington ground out. "You are no longer at the helm of a ship nor do you have the burden of authority and never were you a military man so this place is unsuited for your presence."

Something flashed in Jessica's eyes, and Nicollette could tell it cost her to hold in whatever retort she had on her lips. Wordlessly, Jessica stalked out without even acknowledging her husband.

For a moment no one moved. Groves ordered the training officers to lunch since luckily it was time for a break. As the gentlemen marched out, wise enough to hold their tongues until they were out of range of their leader, Nicollette emerged from her hiding place and went straight to the Commodore.

Nicollette sighed. "Man...she's gonna be putting your stuff out on the porch."

Norrington couldn't fight an eyeroll at the statement. "Your commentary is hardly warranted, Miss Smith."

"After what I just saw? You better be lucky I ain't helping her cut out the seat of all your pants."

He attempted to exude confidence but he did feel a bit apprehensive. "My wife wouldn't dare be that petty."

The look Nicollette slanted him indicated that his wife _would_ —and enjoy it immensely.

Norrington raised an eyebrow. "All because I reminded her of her place?"

Nicollette raised an eyebrow right back. "Did you find what just came out your mouth okay or do you like spouting hurtful bullshit?" She cut him off before he spoke. "Tell me something. You knew what she was all along, you're not stupid. So why'd you marry her?"

He opened his mouth to speak but Nicollette walked away and swung his cooling lunch into his stomach, leaving him with the burden of her question and the fragrance of beef stew.

* * *

Meanwhile, the woman in question—whatever you would like to call her—stared out at the sea. Her emotions swirled dangerously inside of her and she struggled to keep herself from crying, screaming, or both. She was both galled by her husband's chauvinistic behavior and the fact that she was in upheaval over it. _Damn him. Damn her. Damn **everything.** Dammit._

“Mrs. Norrington?”

If it were possible she would have emitted steam out of her ears. She exhaled heavily and faced Lieutenant Gillette, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Lieutenant,” she began, giving him the courtesy to refer to him by his rank and not his name, even though she knew there was little chance of it being reciprocated, “if Commodore Norrington sent you to discover my whereabouts, he should be warned I possess very little good humor at the moment so proceed at your own risk.”

“The Commodore did not send me,” Gillette assured her, hands raised. “I came on my own command so please do not harm me in his stead.” Her mouth twitched, fractionally. “He deserves a good thrashing every now and again, but I wanted to speak to you on a matter of perspective.”

“A matter of perspective?” Jessica shook her head. “If you're going to tell me that his male pride was shaken, believe me, I could discern that quite clearly.” She walked toward him and stopped momentarily. “I appreciate your intentions, Lieutenant, but I am not the one lacking perspective.”

Gillette stared bemusedly at her back as she strode past him. “And the Commodore is?”

She paused and turned again. “Gillette,” she started, eschewing courtesy for familiarity, “have you ever had your hands tied together?”

He blinked at the question. “I have been in perilous situations, yes. I fail to see where you are going with this.”

“Then you cannot recognize the sight of a woman cutting through her bounds.”

Gillette chuckled humorlessly. “Mrs. Norrington, if you feel trapped by your marriage perhaps this is something you should discuss with your husband.”

She peered at him meaningfully. “But I am not trapped by my marriage, Gillette. Or my husband.”

When she walked away, he still pondered her words with the sound of the waves hitting the shore.

* * *

Norrington, after making the rounds of the fort, retreated to have lunch alone in his office. Unfortunately, it was his day to be accosted by his sister-in-law and former object-of-affection. Claudia Vargas and Elizabeth Turner—nee Swann—awaited his presence in his office, much to his chagrin.

After a greeting coolly served, Claudia raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Oh Norrington, what has she done now?”

“Claudia!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Whoever said it was about Jessica?”

“They've only been married a short time and he's suddenly acting like someone just sunk the _Interceptor_ in the harbor,” Claudia explained. “Last week when Nicollette nearly burned his wig to cinders he laughed it off and now his countenance has taken a complete one hundred eighty-degree turn. Not to mention, I know the smell of my sister's beef stew and the only reason why it's congealing on his desk is because he's angry with her.”

Elizabeth considered this. “Point taken.” She turned to Norrington with observant eyes. “So, James? What happened?”

Norrington fumed and shuffled some paperwork. “I am in no mood to recount the events of the hour previous.”

“Fine,” Claudia said. “So allow for me to guess. Jessica asserted herself in your domain and offended your male sensibilities.”

Norrington's eyes flashed again. Bullseye. “Ah,” Elizabeth murmured. “That's right. The training has started.”

Norrington caught the weight of comprehension in her tone and lifted his head, paperwork forgotten. “Did she say something to you?”

Claudia and Elizabeth shared a knowing glance that made him stifle the urge to shake the information out of them. Before he could press any further, Gillette entered. Gillette started to speak but noticed Claudia and Elizabeth standing nearby.

“Hello, ladies,” Gillette greeted them. He shifted toward his superior uncertainly. “I, ah...sir...ahem...ran into your wife.”

Claudia tilted her head. “And you're still alive? There's hope for all of this yet!”

Norrington gave Claudia a baleful glance out of the corner of his eye before addressing Gillette's statement. “Lieutenant, I hope my wife did not cause you any undue harm.”

“On the contrary, sir,” Gillette responded. “However, if I were you, I would take caution for the next little while. She looks like the type that would bite and not bark.”

“If she's at home making bread, you'd better be scared,” Claudia told him with a nod.

“I didn't know she even knew how to bake,” Elizabeth said, frowning.

“She doesn't,” Claudia revealed, and Elizabeth's frown turned into a wince.

“Gillette, she didn't seem too mad, did she?” Elizabeth asked, more for Norrington's sake than her own curiosity. “Did she say anything?”

“Nothing that I could immediately understand, Mrs. Turner. She stated that she was not the one lacking in perspective”—Norrington's lips tightened at that statement—“but she did ask me a very strange question. Something about having her hands tied together.”

At that, both of the women's eyes widened, and Claudia smacked Norrington across the face with her gloves.

“Hey!” Norrington protested. They were made of lace, but the action still stung.

“You bleeding idiot,” Claudia scolded him.

“I don't comprehend,” Norrington returned heatedly.

“Of course you don't,” Claudia shot back.

Elizabeth sighed and moved her friend away from the seething Commodore before she was thrown behind bars. “Calm yourself, Claudia. Perhaps James simply doesn't remember.”

“Remember what?” Norrington demanded. “Is it a female trait to be so vague? Just explain to me what she means.”

“She's worried,” Elizabeth elaborated but still sounded vague to his ears. “She simply doesn't want anything to happen to you. Based on some of your...adventures at sea, she wants to make sure you're well-protected.”

Gillette guffawed. “Well of course he would be well-protected! Why wouldn't he be?”

No one spoke. Norrington slackened fractionally, settling back into his chair to think. His mind labored to find his wife's reasoning or the circumstances that led to this reasoning. Elizabeth patted his hand and gave her farewells, deciding that he needed time alone. She all but dragged Claudia away, and soon Gillette made his exit as well after imparting some work-related information.

The rest of the day ensued with little emotion on his part. He gave orders with authority and completed his tasks impeccably. He sent a short note to his butler to inquire the state of his home in the wake of the morning's events.

The response was brief. _The Mistress is making bread, sir. She seems extremely overwrought and will not let me into the kitchen._

Well hell. He was fucked.

“Groves,” Norrington began, “I think I will take the evening watch tonight.”


	3. Watch

**2.0** _– Watch_

At the Norrington house, right around bedtime, Nicollette stood in the doorway of the kitchen with Edmund Jasper, Norrington's butler, and observed the disarray in her midst.

"This is a hot, steaming pile of excrement," Nicollette remarked.

"I concur, milady," Jasper agreed grimly.

Jessica's fit of emotion had culminated in the near destruction of the kitchen. Flour was strewn upon every surface, and the Mistress herself was covered in it. Dozens of loaves of bread of varying sizes and shapes rested on available surfaces. The air was stifling with heat and fury. Nicollette valued her life, but she knew if Jessica wasn't stopped she'd go through the complete supply of flour for the entire month. Unfortunately Walmart hadn't been invented yet.

"I'm going in," she muttered and rolled her shoulders. She executed a couple of lunges for good measure. "Cover my back, Jasper."

"You're a brave young lady, Miss Smith," Jasper said.  _Words,_  Nicollette mused. As it always did whenever she tried to approach Jessica in a rage, "Golden Queen Galaxia" played in her head. It was a shame no one would get the reference.

She sucked in a breath and darted into danger. Jessica currently pounded into a mound of dough with enough force to knock it into the middle of the Earth. Nicollette wasn't sure how her arms were keeping up at this pace. Or how the house hadn't collapsed into itself. As she inched closer, she found that Jessica was muttering under her breath. "Um, Jessica?" Nicollette hedged.

"...that bloody piss-for-brains wanker...ordering me around like me knows what's best...I ought to chop off his genitalia..." And at that moment she picked up a rather large meat cleaver and hacked into that poor, defenseless flour with one decisive move.

Nicollette yelped and had to keep herself from spontaneous urination. Heart racing, she grabbed Jessica's wrist with a vise-like grip that still didn't feel quite strong enough.

"Jessica?!" Nicollette cried.  _"Earth to Captain Jay! This is Starfleet, do you copy?"_

Confusion broke through Jessica's anger. "What?" she asked, genuinely perplexed.

Nicollette waited a long, humming moment before she spoke. She made sure her gaze did not leave the other woman's face. Or the weapon in her peripheral. "Jessica, it's me, Nicollette. Do you know what day it is? What's your birthdate? Do you know who the President is?"

Jessica sighed in frustration and yanked her arm out of Nicollette's grasp. Luckily she put the cleaver away. "What are you bloody going on about? I know damn well what day it is."

"O...kay." Nicollette nodded slowly. "But are you aware that you just made like 150 loaves of bread? I'm pretty sure that's an all-time record. You need a rest, girl. And maybe a nice bubble bath with some fragrant salts..."

As her steam started to dissipate, she deflated then rubbed her eyebrow with the back of her dusty hand. "I've made a mess, haven't I?"

Nicollette could see the downturn of her anger and where it was heading. "Eh...you know...I mean..."  _Oh screw it._  "Okay yeah. This is a pretty big mess. This is the Mount Vesuvius of messes." Jessica sniffed and it was an ominous sound. "But we  _got_  this though! Hey Jasper!"

Jasper appeared cautiously in the doorway. "Yes, milady?"

At the sound of his voice, Jessica turned sheepishly. "Oh Jasper, I am so sorry that I threw that loaf of bread at you. I was...rather upset earlier. Can you forgive my foolishness?"

"Apology accepted, milady," Jasper said kindly, bearing no ill will whatsoever. "Now perhaps we should make amends of this mess before the Master arrives home."

Jessica, as if awoken out of a dream, blinked and looked around. "Why, that's strange. It seems rather late."

Nicollette and Jasper shared a glance. "Yes, and so we oughta get crackin'!" Nicollette suggested, grabbing a rag and some soap with gusto. As Jessica followed suit, and Jasper went to put the the loaves away, she hoped that the clean-up efforts would steer Jessica away from the more obvious question:  _Where is Commodore Norrington?_

* * *

The man in question lowered his spyglass and stifled a yawn. The waters were calm this evening, a fact that did not assuage his fatigue in the slightest. Below him his younger officers took up posts as well, while the others—more senior officers—had the luxury of getting most of their sleep while it was dark. He kept things as fair as he could, especially after the events of the past several months. In a couple of weeks it would be inverted. Perhaps the evening watch wouldn't be so bad, considering he might not want to go home.

As he collapsed the spyglass, the gold on his left hand glinted in the moonlight. Thinking of his wedding day, he slid the circle off his finger to read the inscription.  _Through every storm, my love shines for infinity—Jessica._

He smiled faintly, thinking of that very last storm, the worst one. They had been up against Jessica's aunt who wielded a powerful enchantment to control a legendary sea dragon through Claudia, and Jessica, according to the folklore that her grandfather had imparted upon her, possessed the means to end the dominance—with her  _katana_.

He had begged her, as the sea thundered around them, to allow for him and his crew to withdraw in the  _Dauntless._  The risk had been too great. His intention had been to take her with him but she ardently refused.  _If this is the sum total of the significance of my life right here right at this very moment, then...the risk seems fair enough._  After that statement, she'd hugged—not kissed—him and whispered,  _This is the chance for you to fulfill your mission, Commodore. Take it._

She had meant with her death and the safe return of Claudia, he would be absolved of any wrongdoing and receive the promotion that Cutler Beckett had promised him. She had gleaned during their time together searching for her sister that both of those things were important to him. In the end, Jessica barely escaped death—but he had been the one to strike Delia Vargas with the killing blow.

"Commodore?"

Norrington was jolted out of his reverie by a familiar but unexpected voice. He turned to find Governor Swann walking toward him appearing as puzzled as he himself felt. He had not seen the Governor this close since Elizabeth and Will's wedding (his own had been prepared hastily, and the Governor had not been able to attend when it occurred).

"Good evening, Governor," Norrington greeted him, frowning. "It's rather late for you to be out. Is everything all right?"

"I am perfectly fine, and I daresay it is rather late for you as well." He tilted his head and peered more closely at the younger man. "I can detect the weight of marital problems on you, Commodore Norrington. They are not an easy weight to bear."

"It's nothing," Norrington assured him, hoping he sounded blithe enough to escape this impending conversation.

However, he was too transparent. Governor Swann smiled knowingly. "I had heard that the Captain is worried about you," Swann remarked. It took Norrington a moment to realize his source was Elizabeth. He hated the idea of being the subject of town gossip, and conversation between friends seemed more palatable. "Should she be?"

"Some of the new officers are a bit inexperienced," Norrington revealed. "Nothing a little arduous training won't cure."

"That's the thing about women. They often notice things that we men tend to gloss over. Your wife absolutely stunned me the first time I saw her and I will never forget it."

_So this is Captain Jay. I expected—_

_A man?_

"I think she stunned us all a bit that day before we left port," Norrington recalled.

Governor Swann chuckled. "Oh no, Commodore. I wasn't referring to that, although that was an adequate showing of her character. I had crossed paths with the Captain before she was a captain. It was in London, right after her mother died." He paused for a moment and looked out over the expanse as Norrington looked at him avidly. "I am not entirely sure she remembers. I barely remembered it myself until a few weeks ago. Elizabeth had been a small child, and I had been dealing with my own loss. It had been after some state function for His Majesty, and it appeared that her father was attempting to match her with some inept courtier who could barely keep his hat on straight before he was making eye contact with another girl. She couldn't have been any more than twelve, but she took a look at that young man, then looked at her father and said,  _Father, I deserve better than this_. She didn't raise her voice or cry. She made the assertion like it was a natural fact.  _Father, I deserve better than this_. And when her father argued, she excused herself in the middle of his tirade, and merely walked away."

Norrington tried to imagine Jessica as a young girl, a smaller version of her current self. She rarely spoke about her childhood except to recount the injustice inflicted by her late father. She avoided the subject of her mother the way a person protected a throbbing wound. Most of his body of knowledge in that regard had been supplied by Admiral Merrell during that theatrical dinner at Fort Hamilton. Other details Claudia had reluctantly given him. It may have been the tragic fact that both of them were virtual orphans, but he hadn't imparted much information about his parents, either.

"But I digress, Commodore," Swann said, warding off the detour with a wave of his hand. "I hardly mean to bore you with my memories. Obviously I hold your wife in high regard, and with good reason." He placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Whatever it is that is troubling you both, I assure you, can be amended. Will you please try? Even if the circumstances are...let's say, a little more complicated than they seem on the surface?"

Norrington smiled faintly, understanding his meaning. "Yes, Governor Swann, I will."

"I trust that you will. Now..." He paused to take in the somewhat calm scene around them. "On to other matters..."

* * *

After a couple of hours, and some elbow grease, the kitchen gleamed clean once again. Jessica tiredly thanked Jasper for his help before Nicollette whisked her away for a bath. Well, in current terms. Nicollette didn't feel like screwing with history anymore than she already had by trying to explain indoor plumbing.

As Jessica freshened up and dressed for bed, she too noticed her wedding ring. In her life as a pirate, she had donned gaudy and more expensive pieces, but nothing meant more to her than this simple inscribed gold band.  _Eternally your shield, your sun, your bolstering wind-James._  She sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall.

" ** _Stop_**  it," Nicollette chided as if she were speaking to an errant puppy. Jessica whirled around in surprise. Nicollette was giving her a stern look that she felt was hardly warranted.

"What are you on about now, Nicollette? I haven't even done anything."

"Girl, I can tell you're over there moping."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "If you're referring to my subdued countenance, I am simply questioning the events of this afternoon."

Nicollette crossed her arms over her chest. "Jess, I hope you're not to say what I think you're about to say." When Jessica said nothing, Nicollette emitted a noise that sounded like she was being strangled. "Captain, you are legit the baddest bitch this side of the Atlantic. And you're going to let some silly boys whose balls have barely dropped steal your self-confidence? You used to eat assholes like them for appetizers!"

"I'm married now," Jessica pointed out, cringing on the inside at the flimsy statement even as she spoke. "I am someone's wife. A Commodore's wife, lest you forget."

"It doesn't mean you're dead," Nicollette muttered. "They need to learn some respect."

Jessica shook her head tiredly. If she gave in to that voice that echoed Nicollette's sentiments, she feared she'd find this life she created utterly lost. "I'm not the one to teach them."

"The hell you aren't!" Nicollette shifted, deciding to take another approach. "Okay, okay—fine. So they're off-limits. Then let Norrington handle them."

As Nicollette expected, that made Jessica even more agitated. "I can hardly go to my husband whenever I have a disagreement or someone addresses me with an offensive word. Yes I'm his wife, but I'm not a simpering fool."

Nicollette stared at her for a long moment before speaking again. "All right, Captain Jay. So there seems to be an issue here that you and Commodore need to resolve. A pact needs to be made between both involved parties."

"That would be fairly simple..." Jessica made an expansive gesture to include the room. "...except the  _Commodore isn't here_."

Nicollette made her way to the doorway muttering about cell phones and GPS tracking. She called out for Jasper who appeared as if conjured out of thin air. "Are you in need of me, milady?"

"Jasper," Jessica began slowly, "where is my husband? I think you know."

The older man looked slightly uncomfortable. "You have judged correctly, Mrs. Norrington. He sent a note by messenger while you were...occupied."

Jessica rose in alarm. "Is he all right?"

"I am sure he is perfectly fine aside from his needing a good night sleep." Jasper's tone carried an undertone of chiding in it which made Jessica lower her head. Frowning, she went to the closet and perused the rack. She settled on a jacket and threw it over her arm while she rummaged on the floor for footwear.

"You're not going to Fort Charles are you?" Nicollette asked, the pitch of her voice rising a couple of octaves. "At this time of the night? Where you might get...shot?"

"Perhaps I am," she murmured. "Like you said, there is an issue here that the Commodore and I need to resolve." She said nothing more as she stalked out—in her bedgown, no less—pulling on her boots and the Commodore's jacket. A few seconds later, the front door opened and closed.

_Pause._

"Well...at least she isn't armed," Nicollette noted.

"Things are looking up, milady," Jasper remarked, and then the duo bid each other good night. Nicollette decided she wasn't going to worry about it anymore unless either the Commodore or the Captain came up missing.

* * *

At this time of the night, the town of Port Royal was winding down from its evening, and its upstanding citizens were making their way home while the more adventurous types continued their evening activities. Jessica, oddly clad in her night gown, one of her husband's jackets and her favorite boots, marched through the town without paying attention to any of them. They seemed to be benign, and behaving, so there was no reason for her to intercede.

Unfortunately, one of them decided to intrude upon her journey.

A young woman in boy's clothes and a tricorn hat darted out of a tavern yelling at the top of her lungs. Based on her tone and choice of words, she had been addressed with unwarranted disrespect. Jessica nearly lashed out with annoyance before she realized who had stumbled into her arms.

She blinked down at her baby sister in shock. "Gretchen?"

The raven-haired young woman blinked at the familiar address, then paled considerably when comprehension dawned. "Jess? What are you doing here?" Her shock quickly was overcome by bemusement. A frown marred her pretty features. "And why are you in your nightgown?"

"Come back 'ere you bleeding 'arlot!" exclaimed a rough male voice. Jessica, tired and more susceptible to her baser urges for violence, cracked her knuckles and excused herself for a moment. When she returned, those ribald shouts were replaced with cries of pain in her wake. Her eyes were dark with fierceness as she pulled her sister away from the scene amid the stares.

"What were you doing there?" Jessica demanded archly. "That is no place for any sister of mine. You should be at home with Cynthia, Claudia and Samantha."

Gretchen rolled her eyes, showing her youth, and shook her head. "As if we didn't encounter worse places during our travels on the  _Diamond_. I can take care of myself,  _hermana_. Besides, I'm not the one who looks out of place at the moment." She tilted her head when Jessica remained stonily silent. "I heard about the dust-up at the Fort between you and ol' Norrie. I'm sure he didn't mean it." Her green eyes brightened with anticipation. "Are you going to go get him? Right now? Is that why you're in your nightgown?" She sighed gustily. "That is so romantic. Please tell me I can watch."

Jessica, on the verge of fussing at her little sister over her misplaced optimism, had a sudden thought. After the events earlier that day, her husband might have ordered them not to grant her entry. She fumed, filling with steam again, and placed her hands on her sister's shoulders. During one of her detainments she noted the watch pattern. She hoped her husband hadn't changed it yet.

"Gretchen," she began, "I need your help."

* * *

Very close to midnight, Commodore Norrington heard a ruckus.

He had been deep in thought, mulling over his conversation with Governor Swann and the information he sought out as a result. What he learned from his inquiry into the events in the courtyard troubled him greatly and nearly culminated into him yanking some officers out of slumber for a dressing down. He changed his mind after an attack of prudence and decided to address his officers in the morning as a whole.

The high-pitched sound of a woman's laughter and drunken babbling bounced off the walls. He could not hear exactly what was being said since he was too far away to discern the individual words but he could tell whatever it was came from the entrance. Brow furrowed, he removed his spyglass and scanned the expanse. From this distance, he could see Murtogg and Mullroy attempting to subdue a dark-haired female who stumbled with every step. Her words were thick with inebriation and gaiety, and it was clear that she intended no harm. However, a nagging suspicion crept up his spine.  _Something about that girl was familiar..._

A flash of brightness went across his scope then disappeared. Eyes narrowed, he lowered the spyglass and relied on his natural vision. A few feet inside the entrance to the Fort, mostly hidden in shadow, was a very discernible shape of a human clad in a pale shade. He peered through the spyglass in the general direction. He saw nothing but wall...crept left...nothing but wall...crept left...nope, still the wall— _there_. He hovered for a moment and spied the pale visage of the form scaling the wall. The woman shifted and her gaze narrowed onto him. He knew those eyes.

The blood turned into ice in his veins.  _That blasted woman._  "Dammit," he swore and went for the nearest staircase.

She must have seen him move and darted out of the cover of darkness. Before she could move back into safety she had a dozen muskets pointed at her. _Steady, Commodore,_  he cautioned himself. He stopped himself from shouting at the last minute, realizing that the predicament could escalate very easily if he lost his calm.

"Don't move," she was ordered by a voice that sounded like it was barely out of puberty.

"I mean no harm," she insisted with her hands raised. "I just came here to find my husband."

"A likely story," one of them said. Another woman was pushed unceremoniously into the middle along with her. She had been the source of the noise, Norrington figured. "I wager she is in collusion with this one."

Mullroy, who disliked seeing this treatment of the two unarmed women, spoke up. "Perhaps she is actually trying to find her husband."

"She is!" the younger woman exclaimed with a baleful glare for anyone who disagreed. "He's around here somewhere and if you'll find him for us—"

"Wait," Murtogg said to his comrade, appearing dubious. "What if she's telling a lie? She sort of looks familiar. She kind of reminds me of that pirate we had stashed in the prison last summer. What was that moniker she used? Paul O'Shea?"

His wife rolled her eyes in an expression that reminded him of Jack Sparrow. "It's Jay. Captain Raul Jay. It's Spanish."

Mullroy brightened with comprehension. "That's the one!" Then he sobered. "Wait, does that mean you're a pirate?"

The younger woman winced at his wife's forbidding expression. She looked like she wanted to chew Mullroy's head off. The revelation heightened the intensity of the moment and Norrington quickened his pace.

"State your intentions, pirate," one of the other officers demanded.

Since she probably had petticoats older than he was, she raised an exasperated eyebrow. He could tell she was resisting the urge to strike the boy. "I do believe you should afford me some respect, young man. Or is it possible that you have no esteem for the female gender and would like to learn  _very quickly_?"

"And who are you to demand such respect?"

"Would you like to test me and find out?" Jessica challenged.

Before the young man could counter, Commodore Norrington entered the scene with an unreadable expression. His hands were clasped behind his back, allowing for him to assume that stiffened posture that was his trademark and to mask their trembling. No one moved except to shift out of the Commodore's path. He regarded his wife with a steady eye of a man who was starting to realize the depth of his lover's feelings—and that they were slightly dangerous.

"How did you get in?" he inquired.

Shrugging as much as she could given the limits, she replied, "Employed a diversion so I could sneak past the guards."

The other woman, whom the Commodore recognized as now as his youngest sister-in-law, threw up a spunky wave. "And I was said diversion," she announced. The muskets moved closer. "Hey watch it there, mate! You could hurt me with that thing."

Norrington gazed at his wife unwaveringly for a long, tense moment. She stared back, valiant and proud, but also terrified. "Stand down," he ordered. The muskets lowered and the officers relaxed their stance. He never looked away from her and as she lowered her hands she drew herself up to her full height. He wanted to assure her she wasn't in any danger—least of all from him. "Back to your posts, gentlemen." As they started to make their exit, he added, "Oh and next time, do try to have a better recollection of my wife. I hardly want to hear the complaints when she bests you all in her nightgown."

Jessica bit the inside of her cheek when she heard,  _That's his wife?_  and the equally shocked query,  _She used to be a pirate?_  along with the rejoinder,  _We are going to be in so much trouble._

When they were alone, silence fell between them. He could feel Gretchen watching them avidly as if they were a source of entertainment and felt uncomfortable. His wife cleared her throat and side-eyed her sister meaningfully.

"Um...nice to see you again, Norrington," Gretchen said awkwardly. Norrington shifted his stare to her, and she noticeably fidgeted when he didn't speak. "I suppose I'd better find another spot to occupy." Her brother-in-law merely gave her a silent nod. She shuffled away to a respectable distance but still strained to hear their exchange.

Silence still lingered between them. Hating the void, he could see the exact moment Jessica decided she'd be the one to break it. She wanted to know where she stood with him, especially after going through the effort of breaking in and nearly getting shot.

"It was foolhardy of me, but I thought they wouldn't grant me passage so I sneaked in." She watched his face carefully for any signs. He had schooled his features to blankness while he worked out the legion of emotions swirling in his heart. No assistance there. "I needed to see you, James. To apologize." Still no reaction. "I allowed my emotions to steer my actions and I am very deeply sorry if I hurt you."

He still said nothing. She hated it. He knew it. A small part of her felt that he played with her just to get the maximum effect and her eyes narrowed slightly. She wasn't wrong. Something in his eyes changed. She thought she spied...amusement? "I had been hoping that this would be a conversation, Commodore," Jessica said wryly. "Which usually means that there is a portion you have to uphold. Unless you just like listening to me grovel."

"It is quite satisfying, yes," Norrington admitted. "However, I have to admit, while your words are pleasing to my ear, I am more entranced by the sight of the clothing you chose for this adventure. Particularly this jacket that I am entirely positive belongs to me." He reached out and touched it, lost in a memory. A smile ghosted at the edges of his mouth. "Your cousin picked this out for me when we were in London."

Jessica peered down at herself as if seeing her ensemble for the first time. Then she laughed as the memory descended. "Ah yes, playing the Baron and the Baroness. That was quite an amusing time. Well, despite having Cutler Beckett on our heels."

The air between them sobered again. Aching and beyond frustrated, Jessica threw her hands up in the air. "Aw bloody hell. This is silly, Commodore. Let's go home. We can figure it out tomorrow."

As she started to walk away, he grabbed her arm. Not roughly but firm enough to stop her. "Jessica, I..." Confusion marred Jessica's brow as she spied the uncertainty on her husband's face. "There is one thing that cannot wait any longer. I owe you an apology as well, for my reaction. My brusqueness was hardly warranted, especially in the presence of witnesses."

She shifted her arm so she could clasp his hand. "Accepted, only on the single condition that I get to take you home."

Norrington's mouth curved upward. "We are in accord."

The quiet moment was utterly shattered by Gretchen, who came rushing up and nearly knocked them over with relief and jubilance. Jessica grunted and her husband merely sighed. She was family.

* * *

After seeing Gretchen to her porch and enduring hugs and affectionate kisses for her big sister and brother-in-law, the Commodore and his wife trekked tiredly through their front yard. They walked together up the stairs to the front entrance to their home. He opened the door then turned around with his hand offered. "Darling?"

She smiled softly and grasped his hand. The moon lit their way as they ascended the staircase on tiptoe. She hoped not to disturb Jasper given the events of the day. Once in their bedroom, she lit a lantern and after ridding herself of the jacket and boots, sat down on their bed. She watched with affection while her husband removed his uniform, piece by piece.

"I was told what was said to you," Norrington said softly as he hung up his waistcoat. "What made you angry." Jessica's eyes crackled with fury at the memory. "If you had taken out the time to explain I would have understood."

Jessica stewed on that a moment before speaking. "I think it would have damaged things further if I had stayed, Commodore." He frowned at that. "I fully realize what your reputation means to you. It wouldn't bode well to show us quarreling."

"I believe my reputation speaks for itself," Norrington disagreed gently. "Not to mention it is not anyone's place to disgrace you."

"They're just boys, darling," Jessica said, trying to sound flippant as she pulled the sheets free so they could get under them. "And my reputation should speak for itself as well."

"Gillette said that...you felt like your hands were bound together." He could feel her stiffen even from this distance. "I will admit that it troubles me to entertain the thought that you would want to be free..."

Jessica shifted toward him then, eyes somber. "Gillette did not understand what I was saying and has instilled worry in you." She exhaled, feeling the brunt of her fatigue after expending so much energy. "I wish I had the fortitude to explain, James."

He crossed the room, wigless and vulnerable, and lowered himself onto the bed next to her. "Could you try? For me?" She hesitated and lowered her head. "This is truly difficult for you, isn't it?"

She pressed her lips together momentarily and raised her gaze. "What I had asked Gillette was if he had ever had his hands bound together." James remained silent, recognizing that Jessica was attempting to search for the right words. "I am always cognizant that my power in the world is finite, and because of my sex men often underestimate of what I am capable and because of my past they deem it dishonorable. But I do have power, Commodore. And I would like to wield it."

It was her husband's turn to choose his words carefully. "Jessica, you do realize that I am here to protect you, right? You don't have to fight so hard anymore."

She shook her head, eyes taking on a glossy sheen. "Of course I know that you wanker. But who's going to protect you?"

Her words packed a wallop. He was rendered unable to breathe for long enough for Jessica to become anxious. He had misread her intentions in this predicament from first sight. She hadn't been using her so-called power to undermine his. She was attempting to protect him.

"James? James darling, are you all right?"

He stared at her, nodding but saying nothing at first. "I am fine. I just...I didn't realize that meant so much to you."

She continued, firmer now, "You may think it's silly of me to intercede, that I am meddling in serious military business that I can't wrap my female brain around, and you may not completely comprehend what good I can actually do, but I will _not_  have while I have two working hands and two working feet any manner of half-assed defense by _inexperienced_  and  _untrained_  and foolish boys of the man I love. I will not having you risking your life anymore than necessary and certainly not because some action-happy git doesn't know which way of the sword is the dangerous one.  _Do you understand_ , Commodore?" When she ended her outburst she was panting slightly.

She didn't even realize she was crying until he reached up and thumbed a tear away.

To him, her reluctantly shed tears rammed home the meaning and emotion behind her words more than anything. He had forgotten that they had fought together. Not just against one another, and sometimes it had been harmless sparring, but alongside one another, on the same team.

"I understand, Captain," he promised softly.

She nodded, overcome with feeling, as he brought her closer. "You better," she choked out in an attempt to be hard, but her tone lacked heat. He wrapped his arms around her, marveling at how exposed and small she seemed. He pressed his lips to her temple, her eyelid, then her mouth. By the time he'd reached her lips, her fingertips made contact with the bare skin on his lower back under his shirt. Gently she lowered herself to the bed and pulled him with her. He could tell by the look in her eyes what she wanted. He obliged her with a new-found tenderness that staggered them both.

It certainly wasn't intended, but they didn't get much in the way of sleep that night.


	4. Captain/Commodore

**3.0**  - _Captain/Commodore_

She could sense sunrise approaching in the back of her mind like a growing ache, as years traveling on sea had conditioned her to awaken at dawn, but she refused to rise yet. Especially since her firm and cozy husband felt so wonderful snuggled up against her back, arms around her and fingers entwined. After years of sleeping alone and often in less-than desirable circumstances, she figured she deserved this indulgence of another human being showing her affection.

She pondered sleepily about the idea of staying wrapped up in her husband's embrace. Before she had fallen in love with him, before she allowed herself to accept the inevitable force of nature Emotion was, she had little idea that a man and woman could honestly have a connection without guile, without pressure or preconceived notions of strict gender roles. Sure, her husband could be dominant, but that hardly meant he always  _was_ dominant. Their partnership was founded on mutual respect and a realization of a greater conjoined power. She loved her James a bit more than she respected Commodore Norrington, but it was very close.

The events of the day previous crossed her thoughts on that same vein. She remembered the visage of the man she married, face pinched as he defended his honor—and hers, in a roundabout manner. She recalled him striding up in the darkness as his subordinates aimed weapons at her, hands behind his back and shoulders squared. His face had been inscrutable, but his eyes had spoken volumes.  _Rash, darling. Too rash._

She suddenly wondered, worried, if that was a bad thing.

Ever since she had been young, she acted in the defense of the people she loved with scant regard to the consequences. When she had become the captain of the  _Bloody Diamond_ , taking up the mantle of the persona of Captain Raul Jay, she understood the course would lead to her end, but as long as her sisters were safe, her own life mattered very little. Then Commodore James Norrington made his entrance with the Royal Navy at his back, swords and muskets drawn, and upset the whole balance of her existence.

Suddenly she desired to live—at first to spite him, then later to love him. But at what cost?

She could feel the signs of her husband starting to awaken as well as his body began to react to the start of the new day. "You are thinking far too much, darling, please desist," her husband mumbled, his sleepy voice sweeping away her anxiety and tugging on muscles in places not discussed in mixed company. She found her husband alluring mostly all of the time (unless they were embroiled in an argument, then she wanted to maim him, but not enough to cause permanent damage of course—she loved him), but the sight and sound of him emerging from the throes of slumber rendered her unable to control herself. Her arousal trumped her misgivings momentarily.

She shifted so that they were front-to-front. Gone was the peaceful unawareness of sleep; a faint crease marred her husband's brow. She recognized the signs of him methodically working through the circumstances: it was nearly sunrise, he laid in bed with his wife, and they both were—

The jolt of her touching his bare skin went across his face and his eyes opened a fraction. She snuggled closer for warmth, and the tips of their noses touched. As her desire surmounted her fatigue, she moved until he was beneath her.

"No more darling please," he pleaded, voice still scratchy. She chuckled in his ear and the impish sound caused him to fight the urge to grin. When she raised herself, supporting her upper body on her forearms, she peered down at his face as he fought to remain expressionless.

"Oh no Mr. Norrington," she countered. "If you do not allow for me to think, then I have to engage in some other mindless activity." She shifted her hips and he deeply inhaled. "You don't mind this do you?"

He struggled to breathe normally she writhed above him in a most sinful way. "You make it difficult to manage a rebuttal at the moment..."

She laughed this time, so deeply that he felt it as well, reverberating through their joined bodies. "So this is how you conquer the great James Norrington—" Her sentence ended abruptly because she squealed in surprise as he grabbed her firmly by the hips and reversed their positions. As he lowered his lips to hers, that squeal transformed into a mellower sound. It was her turn to find her breath.

Sometime later, when they were spent but still entwined, he remarked in a deadpan tone, "I believe we both know who conquered whom."

She snorted with laughter, and she felt his warm breath against her shoulder as he chuckled. "Darling I think that was a draw."

"I beg to differ." She turned her head to meet his languid olive gaze and spied mirth dancing in his eyes. It shocked her to reconcile this relaxed, playful lover with the taciturn man who had captured her in San Juan and locked her in prison.  _Changes,_  she thought.

"Perhaps we both conquered," she conceded faintly.

"Concurrently?"

"We work best that way," she replied, tone more serious than the circumstances justified. He frowned at her again, bemused. She stared at the window as the day began to peek inside, her gaze unfocused. She suddenly blinked after a long moment, then sat up with her upper half exposed. As she disentangled herself from him and donned her housecoat, he sat up as well, gazing at her back with concern upon his features. She barely made it around the bed when he had leapt to his feet and intercepted her.

"Jessica," he began in a soft voice that indicated he would not budge.

 _"Jésica Catalina Tomás de la Vargas,"_  she corrected promptly, much to his confusion. She raised her eyes to his. What he saw there filled him with trepidation because he did not understand it. "I'm…sorry, I just…"

"Jessica, what is this?" he asked. "What precipitated this change in temperament all of a sudden?"

She inhaled and her gaze dropped to his clavicle. "James…"

James raised an eyebrow and injected some austerity into his voice. He hoped the sterner tone would force her to be less emotional. "Report, Captain."

She glared at him and shoved herself out of his grasp. Apparently that had not been the best approach. "Dammit James this is  _not the time_  for you to invoke the Commodore, it's too early in the morning." She stalked away toward their closet and missed his eyeroll.

"I cannot fathom another solution so why don't you enlighten me?"

For a long moment nothing happened. When she turned she found him standing there staring at her, the gold of the early morning sun illuminating his bare skin, she realized her irrationality. She sighed in frustration at her folly and wished mightily she could punch something. She settled for clapping her palm to her forehead.

"You see? Don't you see? This is what loving you does to me. One minute I am seducing you like some wanton female and the next I am terrified that you're going to awaken next to me and wonder what in the hell you were thinking marrying a half-Spanish pirate Captain." He came to her silently seeking to banish that look from her face. "Maybe we rushed into things. Maybe—"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Darling, if recollection serves, you were one who stated—and I quote:  ** _Toss the whole thing, let's just do it right now_**."

She sighed in consternation. He did a fairly accurate impression of her. Not to mention he was perfectly correct. "This coming from the man who courted me a whole four weeks before asking me to be his wife." He opened his mouth to speak when she added, "All this mind you after throwing me into prison twice."

"Would you like a divorce?" he asked wryly.

She choked out a chuckle despite herself. "Not on your life, Commodore. You are utterly stuck with me until the end of time."

"Then  _stop_  this, darling," James ordered her firmly. "Do not disrespect us both by thinking in that manner." He released his vise-grip on her shoulders. "We will not repeat the errors of yesterday. Never again. You have my deepest assurance."

She stared up at him and didn't utter a sound for a long time. Behind them, the clock chimed, signaling the true start of the day. He placed his hands on either side of her face to pull her forward. She swallowed when his lips rested on her forehead.

"Get dressed, darling," he said softly. He stepped around her and prepared himself for work. She took a deep breath as she heard him using the basin to freshen up. "Preferably in something complimentary."

"Complimentary?" She whirled around, face marred with confusion. Her husband moved blithely in the manner of a man with a plan that he felt no obligation to share. "James, just  _what_  exactly are you proposing?"

* * *

Jasper could sense the difference in his Master and Mistress when they appeared for breakfast. The Commodore, with little evidence of what had ensued upstairs except for a certain tranquility, entered the dining room nearly in full dress, excepting his hat. The Captain wore one of her better lightweight dresses in a pale gold hue that complimented her husband's uniform. Her long dark hair was fashioned into an up-do that prompted Jasper to frown.

"My lady, you seem rather dressed up for so early in the morning," Jasper noted, placing dishes on the table for consumption. "That isn't to say that the sight of you does not please the eye any other time."

Jessica took her seat at her husband's right, her eyes lowered to her hands as she filled her plate. "Mrs. Norrington is going to accompany me to Fort Charles," James revealed as she portioned out food for herself. When she passed a platter to her husband, she raised her gaze and held his for a humming moment.

Jasper nodded faintly. "Ah yes. It seems that certain introductions have yet to be formally made," he remarked.

"Our union happened..." Jessica trailed off as James's mouth twitched and she gave him a stern look. He cleared his throat and sipped his tea. She continued, "Our union happened very quickly, and it left us with little time to address the matter of formally advising the town."

"Trust me, I believe everyone gathers that you two are together, but I see your point, my lady." A sound in the hallway made Jasper turn, and moments later Nicollette appeared. The mocha-skinned young woman grinned at them so hard that the couple instantly felt uncomfortable.

"Good morning, milady," Jasper said.

"Oh hey Jasp—what's cooking?" She peered at the table. "Ooh scones!" Without permission, she placed herself at the table and grabbed a scone.

"Good morning, Nicollette," James greeted her dryly. "I see that you have let yourself inside my home without preamble as usual."

She guffawed. "Who said I left?" James choked on his tea and Jessica patted his back soundly. She waved off her own remark as the duo stared at her in shock. "Nah Norrington I'm just jerking your leg. Besides, I can all but smell the early morning coitus in the air so I am definitely glad I have just arrived." Jessica pressed her lips together but as usual Nicollette couldn't tell if she were trying to not to laugh or was holding back some scathing remark. As Nicollette examined Jessica further, she received the same impression Jasper did, that Jessica was too dressed up for a mundane morning. "Um chief...what's up with the dress?"

"Mrs. Norrington is accompanying the Commodore to the fort this morning," Jasper informed her as he poured her some tea.

Nicollette rubbed her imaginary beard and pondered on this a moment. After a beat, she declared, "I approve. You two have been married for nearly a month and it's about time someone let the matrimonial cat out of the bag." Then her eyes lit up. "Ooh—does this mean you're gonna let her help train and stuff?"

Jessica turned toward her husband expectantly. He met her gaze with an arch of his eyebrow.

Nicollette rolled her eyes. "I guess that was a  _hell no_. Norrington style." She took a bite of scone, then swallowed. "Well, it'll still be fun to watch. I am ready to go whenever you are."

"You are  _not_ allowed to accompany us, Nicollette," James told her archly.

Nicollette gave him a look that snidely said,  _Oh really?_

* * *

Several minutes later, Jasper closed the door to the carriage after his passengers had gotten comfortable.

"This is gon' be fun!" Nicollette declared, rubbing her hands together in glee, so happy she couldn't finish her syllables.

Opposite her, Norrington sighed heavily. "How in the world did I get deceived into allowing her to accompany us?" he asked in a low tone to his wife.

Jessica patted his knee reassuringly. "It is perfectly acceptable to admit she bested you, dear."

The look he slanted in her direction indicated he far from agreed. She smiled at him, massively amused, and turned to watch the scenery as they passed it by. Inquisitive eyes attempted to peer inside; Norrington rarely used the carriage for he walked, much to Jasper's chagrin, from his residence to Fort Charles on a daily basis.

Jessica regarded their prying eyes with the realization what exactly her husband meant to them. For the citizens of Port Royal, James Norrington was a consummate gentleman and hero, a soldier with skill, ambition, and refinement. She turned and looked at him, and when he felt the sensation of her eyes on him he frowned. Whatever he spied in her eyes prompted him to place a hand over the one still lingering on his left knee. She peered down at the action, glimpsing the wink of his wedding band. She smiled faintly.

Meanwhile, Nicollette watched them, a soft, gratified gleam in her eyes.

When the carriage stopped, the duo both shifted, and the transformation fascinated Nicollette. She had seen both Commodore Norrington and Captain Jay in action, but witnessing James and Jessica become their public selves all within the span of a blink astounded her every time.

"Ready?" Norrington asked softly.

"Always," Jessica responded.

Norrington stepped out first. After planting his feet firmly on solid ground, he shifted slightly and held out a hand. A moment later, his wife's right hand appeared before she herself exited the carriage. When the rest of her body appeared, everyone seemed to pause to take in her serene expression and she accepted her husband's arm without hesitation.

When Nicollette appeared, however, she stepped out of the carriage and gave a happy little shake reminiscent of Charlie Murphy. Norrington eyed her sternly.

"Ms. Smith," Norrington began, "you  _must_ behave. I will not remind you again that you are more than welcome to keep a set of bars in my prison company if you persist with your puerile foolishness."

She gave him a bland stare. "Yes, papa."

The first person who approached them regarded them with a bit of curiosity. "Good morning, Commodore," Groves greeted him. He turned to Jessica, a bit of furrow to his brow. "Good morning, Mrs. Norrington. It seems circumstances between you are much improved from yesterday."

"Indeed, Lieutenant," Jessica agreed. "It would be a waste of time if we dispatched with one another. Honestly, it is much more pleasurable to quarrel and reconcile. Wouldn't you agree, dear?"

Norrington's stoic veneer slipped for a nanosecond and he cleared his throat. "Perhaps in a more private setting, Mrs. Norrington." Nicollette muttered something about being a fly on the wall. "Ms. Smith," Norrington rumbled. She just looked at him innocently and didn't even try to fabricate a sentence. Once Nicollette seemed restrained, he turned back to Groves. "Lieutenant, please assemble the men in the courtyard. I need to address everyone."

"Yes, sir." Groves marched off to carry out Norrington's order. Norrington turned to Jasper and bade him farewell, thanking him for the ride. The trio started forward as Jasper left, Nicollette watching the Commodore and his wife with rapt attention.

"Do you know what you're going to say?" Jessica asked.

"Only what is necessary."

Jessica considered that for a moment as she stared at him sidelong. She knew him well enough to sense the resolve in his eyes that masked something else. When comprehension dawned, she stopped him mid-stride. "James." He looked down at her. "Wait a moment. You don't have to. It's not that important." His eyebrows furrowed. "I…I didn't think this through. I didn't realize what you are relinquishing."

It was a lucky thing she wasn't aware of  _everything_  he had given up for her. "I am sure you would respond in kind, Jessica. Besides, it needs to be done. I am weary of the general public viewing my wife as a pariah."

The couple gazed at each other silently for a long time as Jessica attempted to find the words to tackle his statement. Nicollette heard and addressed the quickly approaching footsteps as she cocked her head around Norrington's tall frame.

She scrunched up her face at Lieutenant Groves as he hurried toward them. "Hey Gillette, why are you running? Is there a fire?"

Gillette inhaled deeply before addressing his superior who had looked in his direction when Nicollette had identified him. "Commodore, we have a development." When Norrington turned to him, dropping his arm and therefore his wife's grasp upon him, he continued. "There has been a sighting of an unknown ship, flying with unidentifiable colors."

Norrington stalked off, speaking briskly as he walked. "We need to have cannons on the ready. Gillette, please escort my wife and Ms. Smith to my office."

"I hardly believe that is necessary," Jessica countered calmly, quickening her gait to walk beside the men. "Perhaps we should examine this mysterious vessel before we start taking precautions." Norrington slanted her an annoyed look. "If it turns out to be dangerous, Commodore, I will follow your directive, to the letter."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. He could hear the voices echoing off stone as they walked through men in the courtyard, who parted to let them pass, and up the stairs toward the battlements. The gathering that he had ordered had succumbed to slight disorder and quieted in his presence but he hardly paid attention. His method was unforeseen, but it seemed his intent had been achieved.

"To the letter," he affirmed. Groves entered the small gathering with inquisitive eyes. He held a spyglass in his hand. "Lieutenant, have you gotten a good look at the vessel?"

"No, not yet." He climbed up onto the crenel and pointed the glass at the sea. With untrained eyes, the others stared in the same direction, unsure what they were seeing.

"Does the vessel have any identifying marks?"

Groves frowned into the spyglass. "It looks like a bird as the figurehead. To be completely frank, it does spark a bit of recollection—"

Eyes wide with comprehension, Jessica whirled and intercepted the spyglass before Norrington could even move. Groves stared at her in shock as she climbed upon the stone next to him. He heard her sharp intake of breath as she lowered the scope.

"That's my ship," she revealed anxiously. She turned to the officers, skirts in hand. Her entire countenance had shifted in a matter of seconds. Gone was Mrs. James Norrington; she had slipped into the mask of Captain Jay and was prepared to command. "Stand down, gentlemen."

"Begging your pardon, madam," Norrington scolded her.

She pinned him in place with a meaningful look that spoke of years in charge. "That's  _Captain_  to you, sir." With a swish of her skirts she rounded him and stalked toward the dock. Expression stony, Norrington stared at her retreating back for a long beat before he followed in her footsteps.

Groves and Gillette stared at them in surprise as Nicollette smacked her forehead. So much for their original intentions. "Not again," she lamented. She sighed and looked to the two Lieutenants. "All right, this is two seconds away from getting ugly. If you'll get the Commodore, I'll get the Captain. Someone's going to have to hold them apart."

The two men shared a glance. "This is completely insane," Gillette remarked.

"It's _all_  completely insane, where have you been?" Groves countered.

Nicollette sighed impatiently. "We don't have time to debate this. Now are you coming or do I have to carry you on my back?"

"Well if you're doubling as a horse—" Groves' snarky comment ended in a fist-induced grunt.

When Norrington had his wife within sight, she was peeling the gown off of her slim frame. Several yards ahead the  _Bloody_   _Diamond_  lurched, nearly tossing its shaky captain unceremoniously into the sea. Clad in only her shift, she paused for a moment as if transfixed by the horror, heart in her throat.

"Jessica!" Norrington exclaimed.

Firming her lips, she ignored him and dove into the water.

Heart thudding against his ribcage, Norrington watched the surface of the sea for any sign of his wife. The unmarred blue stared back at him mockingly. The fracturing wood of the  _Diamond_  groaned in the distance. Gillette reached his side as he bellowed out the order for a longboat. Nicollette and Groves were shortly behind. The quartet watched in silence as the lower-ranking officers moved around them.

Suddenly Nicollette turned to the Commodore, brown eyes filled with trepidation. "James," she said urgently, tugging on his sleeve. He stared at her in disbelief; she had, in the time he had known her,  _never_  addressed him by his given name. "She's been down there too long."

He said nothing as he removed his jacket and waistcoat, hat, socks and shoes. The articles were dropped into the same pile Jessica's dress occupied. Gillette slid Nicollette an annoyed look for causing unnecessary turmoil before addressing his superior. "Sir, you can _not_ go in after her. Wait for the longboat."

Mouth pursed as his wife's had been before she had disappeared, Norrington ignored him and dived into the water.

Gillette fumed, whirling on Nicollette. "Are you proud of yourself, miss? Do you grasp what you have accomplished?"

"Do you want the Captain and the Commodore to die?" Nicollette shot back, an unusual ferocity in her tone. She grabbed Norrington's coat and shoes as the longboat splashed into the water. "Now get in the damn boat. They're probably gonna be tired swimming that far and we don't have time to be arguing."

Gillette glared at her back as she stalked away. Groves shook his head. "Get in the boat, Gillette. She's right. We don't have time to argue."

Gillette, Groves, Nicollette and a couple of lesser ranking officers climbed into the longboat. They rowed away from the dock, watching the  _Diamond_  falling apart before their eyes. The splintering of the ship seemed bizarre to them; it appeared as if a supernatural hand broke sections of her away as she attempted to sail along the water.

"I have never seen anything like this before in my entire existence," Groves remarked with a gloomy sort of awe.

"It's a damn miracle she's still afloat," Gillette agreed grimly.

Nicollette suddenly placed a hand on Gillette's forearm. "Look! There they are!"

He and Groves followed the direction of her finger and spotted the Commodore and the Captain several yards away. They could hear him ask if she was all right but her response indicated she carried more worry about the woman who was possibly drowning in the water than she herself.

The main mast broke with an ominous crack, plummeting in the air above them. Thinking fast, James grabbed Jessica and dove under and away. Moments later, James resurfaced alone, looking around frantically. Nicollette snatched up the spyglass, looking toward the wreckage. She spotted a flash of pale fabric off to the Commodore's left.

"Commodore!" she yelled. "To the left!"

"Next to the port bow!" Gillette offered.

James disappeared underwater heading in the direction Nicollette and Gillette offered. Meanwhile, Gillette scanned the surface for a safe place to convene. "Over there," Gillette indicated. "I believe that will be a good place to recover them."

"What do you think happened to the vessel?" Groves wondered, taking in the floating remains.

"And the crew," Nicollette added worriedly.

Sobered by that query and the possibilities, no one spoke. The swish of the oars cutting water filled the grave silence.

James and Jessica appeared moments later, treading water with an unconscious woman in between them. The mysterious woman sported a long gash on her cheek and her lips were blue. When they were close enough, Gillette leaned down to grab the woman under the shoulders while Jessica and James pushed her upward. Once she was safely aboard, Nicollette grabbed Jessica's arm and James offered her a boost. After Jessica was safely aboard, Nicollette turned to the unconscious woman, and Groves and Jessica assisted James into the long boat. By some act of providence he had managed to keep his wig.

Norrington took a moment to steady his breath as Jessica crawled to where Nicollette performed CPR on the mysterious woman. Gillette offered him his coat and he accepted it but did not put it on.

"Did you know"— _huff_ —"she was coming?" Nicollette panted. She paused to push air into the woman's lungs.

Jessica shook her head. "I have not heard from her since I have been back in Port Royal."

"How did she know you would be here though?" Nicollette inquired during her third set of chest compressions. Jessica looked away slightly as if she did not want to respond.

Her discomfiture was short-lived; the unmistakable cadence of lungs dispelling water signaled that Nicollette's labor had not been in vain. The woman coughed up water and gasped for air. As she heaved oxygen into her lungs, her body starved of warmth, she began to shiver violently. Groves removed his coat promptly and wrapped the woman in it. She stared at him as she drew the sides closer to trap her fledgling body heat.

"Th—thanks," she said in a scratchy voice. Feeling her sister's presence near she turned to Jessica who regarded her with indignation. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. " _Dios mío._  Don't start,  _hermana_ ," she ordered Jessica. "Don't  _even_  start. I already know what you're about to say."

"Do you?" Jessica snapped, forbidding even though she was dripping sea water and goosebumps had broken out on her skin. "Do you  _bloody_  really? What in the hell was  _that_ foolish maneuver, Daniella? Explain to me why  _my_  ship is in bleeding pieces in the damn Caribbean and  _you're_  the only one here."

Danie's lips trembled but she said nothing. The boat reached the dock and as the men moved to disembark, the women remained still. Danie brooded at a spot at the waterline. Nicollette watched Jessica, who brooded at a spot directly opposite. As Groves helped Danie off of the longboat, James approached his wife.

"Time to come ashore," he said softly. She looked at him, eyes fraught with sorrow. He held out a hand. "Captain."

She stared at his hand for a beat before clasping it. She rose and began to walk away but Norrington still gripped her hand. The sorrow intermingled with fury jumped out of her features, attacking his heart. The urges to raze the Earth for the aggressor and hold her until that look faded out of her face nearly surmounted his control, but it held on with bloody determination.

When he spoke, his voice was hushed, intending to soothe. He couldn't help the fury that had leaked through. "Come with me." She didn't argue.

* * *

Sometime later, the couple found themselves in Norrington's office. Norrington, nearly back in full dress excepting his hat and overcoat, sat behind his desk while Jessica occupied the settee, clad in her drying shift and his overcoat with her legs tucked underneath her. Her solemn silence overwhelmed him, but he understood he could not address it at this moment.

"Miss Thomas did not impart with much information before she slipped back into unconsciousness," Groves reported. "From the sound of it, she struggled against some unknown assailant. No mention of what happened to the rest of the crew."

"Any clues from the wreckage?"

Groves shook his head. "Gillette has yet to return. By my calculations, he should be reaching land sometime soon. Unless…" The Lieutenant's eyes flicked in the quiet female's direction. "…their search proved to be fruitful. If that is the case I figure he will want to find more."

Norrington nodded, absorbing the information. "Thank you, Lieutenant. We will await his return. In the interim, please see to the men." He looked to his wife briefly. "I will accompany you momentarily."

"Yes, sir." He turned toward the door but paused, a question on his lips. "Commodore, do you think—?"

"This is not the time to engage in idle speculation, Lieutenant Groves," Norrington broke in, firm but lacking his usual authoritative resonance. Groves guessed it was because his wife was in the room. Deciding it was best to exit, Groves turned the knob and left the Commodore with his wife.

The quiet Groves' exit left was tangible, weighty. A chasm existed between them, and he wanted to mend the breach.

He rose from his chair behind the desk and crossed the room. His wife didn't even move. As he came closer, he steeled himself for the possible onslaught of grief. This woman in his midst was not only his wife—she was the captain of a destroyed ship. As a seaman in command, he sympathized with the loss of a vessel.

He lowered himself to the empty space next to Jessica and inhaled before speaking. "Jessica," Norrington said. She didn't move an inch, as if he had not spoken. He firmed his tone. "Captain." She turned to him, slightly wide-eyed as if she were emerging from a reverie. "We need to discuss what happened."

She shifted and placed her feet on the ground. "I'll tell you what happened, Norrington—someone attacked my ship—the ship  _I_  was entrusted to maintain—and my first mate came to seek me out for assistance.  _That's_  what happened." She inhaled and pursed her lips together. He watched as she suppressed her emotions and instinctively clasped her hand. She accepted it without hesitation.

"Do you have any inkling who this individual may be?"

Jessica chuckled humorlessly. "I can think of a dozen people who would want to have credit for sinking the  _Diamond_. That's like figuring out who would want a chest of gold on their doorstep."

He watched her features as Nicollette's question came to mind. "She established you would be here in Port Royal, somehow. The ship would not have made it far in its battered state therefore she had to be rather confident. You stated the last time you spoke to her was before you left England? How did you know you were not going to return?"

The question hovered in the air for an elongated moment. When she peered at him, her stare carried indiscernible weight. After a humming moment, she rose to her feet and drifted to the window.

She stared out at the sea for a long time. Norrington rose and went to her side. She moved toward him slightly, her eyes dropping to a spot a couple of feet above the floor.

"You want to know how I knew I would not return to London. You want to know how I knew I would be staying here in Port Royal." He watched her and remained silent as she imparted the answer to his query. She placed her hands around his left wrist and he frowned. She lifted his hand to eye level, and the gold circlet on his ring finger glinted in the light. "I left something precious behind," she told him meaningfully, and slipped her fingers in-between his. "And before someone else could claim it, or before it drifted away, I had to make sure I obtained it." She paused. "Or it found me."

The sentiment lingered between them, easing some of the sting of the day's events _. Not to mention I have a great deal of motivation myself._  The idea that she had taken a chance to pursue him amid the great risk was telling.

A loud knock on the door broke the spell, and Norrington fought a sigh. Jessica swiped his palm with her thumb before dropping her hand and disentangling her fingers. He recognized the gesture as affection, all they could afford at the moment.

"Come in," Norrington prompted.

The door opened and Gillette entered, flanked by Nicollette. Nicollette was clad in pair of boy's breeches and a loose shirt, her hair pulled back and moisture dotting her forehead. She carried something under her arm and her gait dragged a bit as if she had over exerted herself.

"Commodore," Gillette began, "I think we found something." Nicollette cleared her throat pointedly. "Or rather,  _Ms. Smith_  found something."

"Yeah," Nicollette affirmed. "On a hunch, I swam down to the bottom and found this in the captain's cabin." She raised a rectangular lacquered box in a dark hue. Despite the state the  _Diamond_  had been before it sank permanently, the box seemed relatively untouched in comparison. On the lid, a skillful hand had painted in gold three symbols: まこと.

Jessica suddenly tensed. Her husband sensed the change and foresaw a passionate reaction. He knew her much too well. He turned to her intending to have her full attention. "Before you reveal the contents of what is under that lid, I need you to promise me you will not react irrationally."

Jessica's lips firmed but she uttered nothing.

"Promise me," Norrington pressed.

She raised her eyes to him, an insolent gleam in them. "How dare you make me promise—?"

"Jessica"— _yep the Commodore's **definitely**  in the building_, Nicollette thought as she fought the fleeting urge to hide behind Gillette at the booming tone of Norrington's voice—" _promise_  me.  _You will not react irrationally_."

"I will react however  _I_  see fit," Jessica shot back, meeting his imposing tone with one of her own.  _And damned if the Captain isn't in attendance, too._ "I am never irrational, Commodore."

Norrington merely raised an eyebrow, choosing not to dignify that with a response. Jessica glared at him then turned to Nicollette, who was shaking her head in consternation. "Sometimes I wonder about you two," Nicollette muttered. She thrust the box in Jessica's direction. While it was in Nicollette's grasp, Jessica reached out and unclasped the latch that held the lid closed. Without hesitating, she raised the lid.

Both the Captain and the Commodore went cold at the sight of the box's contents.

"Is that—?" Norrington managed.

Jessica inhaled deeply. "I don't understand, I thought this had been destroyed." Her hands hovered over it as she wrestled with her disbelief. When her curiosity surmounted her apprehension, she grasped the weapon and removed it from the box.

The Japanese blade whispered of legends lived and wars won. The glossy black wood of the  _saya_  gleamed in the light, unmarred, and its dangerous beauty was a familiar, bittersweet sight for its former owner. The metal tinged with a preternatural hum as she slid it into view. Jessica welded the  _katana_ , testing its weight in her hands, and Norrington imagined her clad in armor and covered in the blood of her enemies. His mind's eye conjured up the vision of her thrusting the business end of the  _katana_  currently in her possession into the heart of a mystical being.

Judging from the look of her, Jessica remembered it as well.

The vibration, reminiscent of a tuning fork, only intensified the longer Jessica had the  _katana_  exposed. Gillette looked at the window with puzzlement as it rattled slightly. The Captain and the Commodore shared a look.

"There has to be some explanation as to why it is—" Jessica started.

"Put it away," Norrington commanded, disquiet creeping up his spine. He placed a hand on his wife's extended arm…only to find that it vibrated as well. He gazed at her in alarm.

With a swift movement that came with much experience, she sheathed the  _katana_  then placed it back into the box. She lowered the lid, brow furrowed.

"This was not on the  _Diamond_  when Danie and I parted ways," Jessica recalled. She searched her memories. "In fact, I am pretty sure it disappeared once it served its purpose." She suddenly shrugged out of Norrington's jacket and walked past Nicollette and Gillette toward the exit. She shoved the garment in her husband's hands without hesitation. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I need to speak with my sister…excuse me..."

Gillette opened his mouth to speak, but Nicollette nudged him and shook her head frantically, making a "cease" gesture around her jugular with her free hand as if to say,  _Don't **do**  it, Gillette—it's a trick!_

The Commodore looked down at the garment in his possession, then up to the thin cloth barely covering his wife's body as she marched away.

"Jessica?"

She fought a groan and turned. "Damn it all, Commodore. I'll be careful, you have my word."

He quirked an eyebrow as he crossed the room in slow, purposeful strides. "While I have no doubt of your ability for prudence, I do believe at this very instant you are extremely scantily clad, and I would prefer it greatly if you donned my coat while among the general public, or I will not be responsible for my actions if a besotted young gentleman attempts to approach you and I have to cause him considerable harm."

Nicollette eyed Gillette behind Norrington's back as if to say _, Told you._

Jessica looked down at herself and exhaled in consternation as her husband slipped the coat over her nearly bare shoulders. When their eyes met, a whole conversation ensued in utter silence. Jessica shrugged back into the jacket as Norrington grabbed his extra one from the cupboard.

"Lieutenant, with me," Norrington said in a businesslike tone. He turned toward his wife briefly. "Please send word if you ascertain what happened."

"Of course, Commodore," Jessica agreed. She nodded at Nicollette and the duo parted ways from the men.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Vargas residence, Elizabeth Turner looked up as Claudia entered the living room, eyes weary. She slumped down into an arm chair, her usual poise nonexistent. Elizabeth spied a smudge of blood on her skirt, and a few tendrils of dark hair came had come loose from her twist.

In the moments that had ensued after Lieutenant Groves' appearance with her younger sister and Elizabeth's harried entrance, Claudia had little time to think. She had been with one of her music students when the loud banging on the door interrupted her instruction. Groves carried her sister in his arms; by then she teetered on the brink between the living world and unconsciousness. Groves lingered to see Danie settled and to interrogate her lightly but soon left when he learned there would be little to take back to the Commodore. He did leave Claudia with the information that Jessica was currently with her husband but nothing else. Shortly after this departure, Elizabeth came to offer her assistance.

"Is she all right?" Elizabeth inquired.

Claudia sighed. "Considering the circumstances, she could be worse but…" She shook her head. "She wasn't coherent enough to explain how she ended up here." She nodded toward the pile of Danie's personal effects. "Have you found anything informative?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Nothing yet. I just finished wringing out Danie's clothes. I hung them out on the line to dry." She looked at Claudia with awe in her brown eyes. "It's a miracle that she made it here with little more than a couple of cuts and bruises. Well, save the head injury."

"Danie has always been rather determined," Claudia said. "Hardly a surprise that she hung on until she reached Port Royal."

"I wonder what happened to the  _Diamond_ ," Elizabeth mused. "Did you say Sam and Gretchen were going to the dock to find out?"

Claudia nodded. "They have always been good at prizing out information. They thought that perhaps someone would have been chattering about it. You have to take it with a grain of salt, but it has its uses." At that moment, she closed her eyes and sat back in her chair, a hand on her forehead. Elizabeth continued to sift through Danie's belongings, hoping to find some clue as to her situation.

She had left the pouch for last; it seemed very empty, she hardly thought she would find anything inside worth use. It had been in the pocket of Danie's waistcoat which had gotten extremely wet. The leather pouch contained a folded piece of paper along with a strange dark rope. The ink on the piece of paper was faded by water, rendering it illegible. Elizabeth soon deduced out that this "rope" actually was hair. Beads of many colors and styles adorned the braided lock, and the sound of charms jingling at the end of it sparked something in her searching brain.

"Claudia," she said urgently as comprehension began to dawn.

Claudia opened her eyes, brow knitted together. "Did you find…?" She trailed off when she spied what Elizabeth had in her grasp. She sat up straighter and leaned forward, gaze upon Elizabeth's hand.

The duo both raised their eyes to the other simultaneously.

"I know this braid," Elizabeth revealed, voice light with shock.

"I do too," Claudia agreed.

Before either one of them could say a word, the door opened and Gretchen entered, followed by Nicollette and Jessica. Claudia turned and frowned at them, noticing someone was missing.

"Where's Sam?" Claudia asked.

Gretchen brushed a lock of raven hair out of her face. "She went down to the tavern to see if she could learn anything there. No one knows anything at the docks. Well, except for the report that Commodore Norrington's wife dove into the sea to save a pirate captain in little more than her bare skin."

The aforementioned wife rolled her eyes and pulled the lapels of her husband's jacket closer. "They would latch on to that fact."

"Are you okay, Jessica?" Elizabeth asked. She nodded at Jessica's choice of apparel. Jessica had not stopped to change her clothes and still wore her shift and her husband's jacket. Elizabeth fleetingly wondered if she would look as fierce in the Commodore's official garb. "Cynthia will be quite disappointed when she learns you lost your dress."

"My dress, both former and current, is the least of my concerns," she admitted wearily. She gestured to the young woman behind her. "Nicollette found something among the remains of the  _Diamond_  and I am still processing it."

Without prompting, Nicollette stepped forward and placed the lacquered box on the dining room table. The women crowded around as she flicked the latch then lifted the lid. Gretchen, Claudia and Elizabeth stared at the contents of the box, gaping with shock.

"It's…" Claudia placed a hand on her forehead as if processing this development in her mind literally hurt. "Oh my dear god."

"Your sword," Gretchen said. "But we all saw—"

Jessica removed the sword from the box and unsheathed it, cleaving through her little sister's statement. A collective gasp filled the room as they visually confirmed the indiscernible truth. That distinct hum met their astonished ears, and Jessica felt it zinging up her arm. Before her brain had registered the movement, she whipped the blade over her head in an arc that had the four women to her sides jumping back in fright and then downward sharply.

An unseen force threw the women backwards and split Claudia's wooden coffee table cleanly in half. The ground shook a bit as if the invisible blow had reverberated through the ground and Jessica cursed. Nicollette hastily handed her the _saya_  and she sheathed the mysterious weapon without hesitation.

The quintet gawked at the halved coffee table and the indent left in the wooden floor with soundless amazement.

"What. Was.  _That?_ " Elizabeth managed, hand on her heaving chest.

Claudia fumed at her big sister. "What in blazes? That was my  _favorite_ table,  _Jésica Catalina_. And I'm not even going to mention what happened to my floor."

"Oh bloody hell," Jessica swore exasperatedly with an eyeroll that reminded them of the Commodore. "I'll get right on making you a new table but I have one small crisis to fix first,  _Your Highness_." Claudia's eyes narrowed at Jessica's sarcastic tone.

"More importantly, how did it get on the  _Diamond_?" Gretchen wondered aloud as a companion to Elizabeth's query, remaining on subject.

"I sincerely hope Danie was not wrapped up in some sort of trouble and was trying to barter it for…" Elizabeth trailed off as she looked down at the dark rope of hair she held in her hand. She raised her gaze to the others as a solution occurred to her. "…compensation…"

Jessica's stare fell to Elizabeth's hand. Claudia could tell when the knowledge descended upon her when a vengeful gleam glinted in her squinted eyes.

"Oh no—" Elizabeth attempted.

"Jess—" Gretchen started.

"You can't just—" Claudia chided.

"Save it," Jessica snapped. She rose to her feet abruptly, leaving the sword behind. She stalked up the stairs with the intent to shake Danie into the waking world.

Nicollette clapped her palm to her forehead. "Lawd have mercy," she lamented.

Gretchen looked to Elizabeth and Claudia. "You don't think that—?"

"Well, we won't know anything until Danie wakes up," Elizabeth reminded them. "All we have is speculation."

Claudia firmed her lips as she climbed to her feet. "If I know my sister, she's trying to wake Danie right now—" She stopped short as a door slammed upstairs. The other three stood as well and followed Claudia to the front hall.

Jessica, face flushed with fury, came rushing down the stairs again. Her sisters recognized the look twisting her features.  _Oh_  shit, Nicollette thought.

"Where are you going now?" Claudia demanded.

A woman on a mission, Jessica walked past her and threw open the door. "I need to find him, Claudia. He knows something. I need to get off this island."

Elizabeth stepped forward. "And what about the Commodore?"

Jessica paused fractionally but did not turn. "I'll handle the Commodore." She exited without another word.

_Pause._

The remaining women shared worried looks.

"Am I the only one that sees this ending badly?" Gretchen wondered.

Nicollette shook her head in consternation. "Girl, you know—we all know—Norrington's gonna flip his wig if Jessica manages to get off this island without his knowledge. You thought the War of the Roses was bad? Just wait for the War of the Norringtons. It'll be so epic it'll make history books. Trust."

_Pause._

"Um, Nic? How exactly do you 'flip a wig'?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

"Oh don't worry you'll get to see if this goes belly up. And I'll bet James Norrington is a champion gold-medal winning wig flipper."

* * *

At Fort Charles, Norrington assumed business as usual. He felt a strange reassurance in his routine in the wake of what had happened that morning. He willed the sight of the crumbling  _Diamond_  out of his mind and went about his daily tasks.

She had appeared suddenly, pushing her way through the men milling about, cornflower blue eyes serious. When he caught sight of her, Commodore Norrington paused, then dismissed the officer with whom he had been speaking, leaving her to address him in relative private.

Samantha Dunne stood at similar height as her older cousin but lacked her potent sense of power. Her long blond hair glinted dully under a cap in the weak sunlight. Much to no one's surprise, she was clad in boy's clothes in stark contrast to her sister Cynthia's overwhelming femininity. When she approached him, Norrington reminded himself a couple of times she was female, not because she wasn't attractive, but because her mannerisms and deeper tone were a touch masculine.

"Commodore," she said without preamble. She never addressed him as  _James_  or  _Norrington_ ; to her, he was always the  _Commodore_. "I was looking for you."

"Is there something the matter, Ms. Dunne?" Norrington asked. "Your cousin has long since left my acquaintance, and her sister should be with Ms. Vargas. Unless there has been a new development?"

"Trust me, I wouldn't be caught down here if it weren't important." She eyed an officer who, as he passed, blinked in surprise at her voice and garb. Yes, she lacked Captain Jay's power but she had her own punch. She rolled her eyes and shook off her annoyance. "Anyhow, I went down to the tavern and—"

Before she could complete her sentence, a rumble shuddered the ground. She instinctively reached out for him to steady herself. Cries of surprise sounded around them, and Norrington searched the expanse for anything out of the ordinary. Everyone seemed to be satisfactory albeit alarmed at the abnormality.

It only lasted a moment but seemed far longer. When the ground beneath their feet was still again, Samantha turned to him urgently. "Commodore," Samantha began.

Norrington stepped out of her grasp with the intent to control any chaos before it became unmanageable. "Ms. Dunne, I am very busy, so if you have anything to impart—"

"I know why Danie came here to Port Royal," Samantha interrupted. "Or rather for whom."

 _That_  got his attention. The Commodore paused then turned. "I sincerely hope you don't intend to tell me my sister-in-law was in collusion with…" His statement dropped off as realization bloomed in his quickly-moving brain. He whirled around and found Gillette standing nearby.

"Gillette, hold down the fort momentarily," Norrington ordered. Gillette frowned at him. "I have to find my wife."

Gillette had no time to assent for Norrington had marched away. Samantha watched him go with pursed lips. Gillette looked to her in exasperation. She met his look with insolence.

"You know, I have never seen him become so unglued about little else than your reckless cousin," Gillette remarked.

Samantha raised an eyebrow and fixed him with a pointed look. "If I catch any less from you Gillette I'll split you from nose to navel." She stalked away, leaving him with the warning of violence. He wasn't afraid of her…much.

* * *

When Jessica entered her house, she paused a moment to sense if any other living being was in her midst but it answered with stillness. She closed the door behind her, hovering close to the threshold in case she needed to make a quick exit. Tension made her rigid, distrusting. She glanced at the clock, realizing that Jasper was most likely at the market, hence the reason why the air was so calm.

 _Good,_  she thought. That meant she wouldn't have an audience.

She started for the staircase, intending to find clothes that would suit her needs. She was tired of wearing this flimsy shift, and her husband's jacket was too heavy for her liking. She hovered at the newel post fingering the navy blue fabric, thinking of her husband. The misgivings that had plagued her that morning made a brief appearance, temporarily assuaging her fury and determination. She sighed. She couldn't allow this to rest, could she? He would understand. You had to strike when you had the element of surprise—

A creak of a floorboard caught her attention and threw off her distraction. She stilled, waiting for any more sounds. She followed the sound, leaving the staircase and walking down the hall toward the back of the house. Her eyes swept the seemingly deserted hall as she sought out anything foreign, dangerous.

So engrossed in her examination was she that when the tap on her shoulder came she reacted without thinking.

She grasped the hand of her unknown visitor and pulled it forward. A moment later a body sailed through the air, and the person yelped at the sudden trip. The body fell to the floor with a crash and she crouched into a fighting stance, waiting to attack if necessary. The form stilled and a large groan met her ears. Her eyes and brain worked in tandem to identify this mystery person, and when she spied a familiar set of dark-brown eyes, recognition suddenly dawned.

Jessica went lax with shock. "Sparrow?"

The dark-eyed pirate managed an impish grin despite his unceremonious meeting with hardwood. "'ello Jay. Say, have ya been workin' on your reflexes, love?"

Jessica had no time to answer. Her husband strode through the entrance right at that moment, calling out her name in a slightly higher pitch than normal. She heard the apprehension in his voice and sensed him coming down the hall. Jessica said nothing as she felt him pause, then stiffen with indignation as he absorbed the scene. She cursed inwardly at the circumstances.

"Sparrow," he spat, injecting the one word with copious venom.

Sparrow froze under Norrington's furious gaze. "Oh this is  _your_ house? Bugger."


	5. Sparrow

**4.0**  –  _Sparrow_

Jessica whipped around to restrain her husband from throttling Jack Sparrow—or worse, given the current state of things.

"Darling… James…" Norrington executed a particularly strong lunge and she had to push him back with considerable force. "Commodore!" His sizzling green eyes dropped to hers. "Calm yourself. We should at least hear what Jack has to say."

"Oh," Norrington began, voice filled with indignation, "so it's _Jack_  all of sudden?"

Jessica's eyes flashed at the implication. "James Lawrence Norrington, I'm gonna  _slap_  you in a minute—"

"Please do—or here's an idea:  _Jack_  over there could fight on your behalf! Hold a moment, you may want to rethink that option, he may  _flee_."

As Jack recognized the killing impulse in his comrade's eyes, and he felt a bit of guilt setting the two against one another, albeit unknowingly, he cleared his throat. The quarreling couple rounded on him.

 _"What?"_  they boomed in unison.

Jack made a face then mustered up a smile in the face of such…intense adversity. "I was just gonna say how much it warms my heart to see you two together."

Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. "Wrong answer, Jack."

Before anyone could utter a sound, or Norrington and Jessica could alternatively commit murder, the front door opened and Nicollette appeared. She peered around the room with her hands on her hips. Norrington threw his hands in the air in consternation.

"Oh wonderful—does  _everyone_  have access to my home nowadays?" he groused.

"Look here Commodore," Nicollette countered in a tone that used 250 years later would make Jenifer Lewis stand up and applaud, "I don't know if you realize this, but I can hear you from outside. And if  _I_ can hear you, there is no telling what looky-loo Peeping Tom is gonna find when they pass by the Norrington house since it's still daylight out and hear you yelling at a  _wanted pirate_."

Jessica sighed and rubbed her temples. She had a low-grade longing for liquor. It had to be evening somewhere. "She's right, Norrington. As much as I hate to admit it, she is right."

Nicollette preened like rooster. "I know I'm right. Which is why I vote for a change in venue."

Norrington said, "And I suppose you already have a particular venue in mind?"

Nicollette merely grinned.

* * *

A few minutes later, Claudia opened the back door to find her older sister, her brother-in-law, Nicollette and a hooded, mysterious individual in her backyard.

Claudia blinked at them for a long moment. She opened her mouth to speak when Jessica said, "Claudia, we don't have much time to explain. Could we please come in?"

She shook herself out of her stupor and moved aside wordlessly to allow them inside. When the mysterious individual strode past her, she satisfied her curiosity and lowered his hood.

Claudia gasped. "Jack?"

Norrington rolled his eyes and Jessica gave him a not-so-subtle nudge.

"Hello, love," he greeted her. "And might I say, what a lovely shade of blue you are wearin'?"

Claudia raised an eyebrow. "Stop trying to deflect, Sparrow. Come inside before I have to drag you in by the earlobe." She turned on her heel and left Jack slightly pouting behind her.

 _"Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do_ ," Nicollette quipped as she walked past. Jack made a face and followed her inside.

Left alone with his wife, Norrington decided he would satisfy his curiosity and get a thing or two out in the open. Jessica could sense what he was about to ask and put her hands on her hips.

"Do not even go there," she snapped before he could say a word. "How could you think that of me? Haven't we been through enough?"

He would not be dissuaded from his indignation. "What would have transpired exactly if I had not come home to look for you, Jessica? Would you have gone off with him?"

Jessica's mouth set in a line. She didn't answer because she doubted he would like her immediate response. After a moment, she spoke. "If it had been necessary I would have. But I wouldn't have left without telling you."

Norrington chuckled sardonically. "Thank you for the concession, Captain. It pleases me to know that you at least would _tell_  me before you make a rash decision without letting me discuss it with you."

Jessica stepped forward so they were toe-to-toe. "That was  _my_ "—she jabbed a finger toward herself—"ship, Commodore. I  _earned_  that ship with my blood and sweat. Do you think I expect you to let me give my opinion on every single decision you make in your life?"

"No," Norrington countered, voice rising to a booming crescendo, "but you do anyhow, and I take it into consideration every time."

Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh do you now? Just like that time you let Gillette go to Tortuga and they nearly gutted him?"

Norrington exhaled through his nose. "Those were a different set of circumstances that bear little resemblance to what is happening now."

"All right, fine. You win that one. What about last night when you stayed on watch and didn't tell me so I had to come find you? Did you ask me what my opinion was on the matter? Did you care that I felt like an idiot when you didn't come home?"

Her husband faltered then. She saw as the meaning of her words slapped him across the face. He looked away and she relaxed her stance. He muttered an apology and turned to go into Claudia's house.

"James." Jessica grabbed her husband's arm to hold him back. He regarded her with a bothersome coolness. "I'm sorry. Let's not fight." He said nothing. She fought a sigh. He was going to make her work for this. "It wasn't my intention to hurt your feelings. It is  _never_  my intention to hurt your feelings. Neither one of us has had anyone to answer to in a long time. The _Diamond_ and its crew mean a great deal to me, even though She's technically not mine anymore."

"And where do I fit in this hierarchy of priorities?"

Jessica let loose the breath she had been holding. "It's not easy, James, but I am learning to put you first, where you deserve to be. You would do the same for me."

"I already have," he said meaningfully, referring to something about which she knew nothing. Her instinct nearly prompted her to dig deeper, but she squelched the urge.

"Obviously you and I have issues," Jessica said, "but right now we need to focus upon the situation at hand." Seeing that she had his attention, she paused to take a breath. "I know that Jack tends to…invoke certain, violent reactions inside you, but I want you to promise me that you will not harm him."

"Jessica—" Norrington attempted.

"If you behave…" She trailed off for effect, her gaze starting at a spot on his arm and rising steadily to his face. She didn't dare touch him, she didn't want to lose ground. "I will make it worth your while." She stared at him without blinking. "Remember our honeymoon?"

_Pause._

Norrington cleared his throat and blushed slightly.  _Bullseye._  "Darling…perhaps  _now_  would not be the best time to mention those circumstances…"

"Why not? This is a negotiation between two intelligent adults after all. I am just outlining my terms to help us both achieve our goal." She leaned in and stated meaningfully in a soft voice, "As many times as you want…"

 _Damn it all,_  Norrington thought as he felt himself relenting. "Fine," he said, sighing. "We have an accord, Captain."

They shook hands to seal the bargain, then went to join everyone else as if nothing had happened.

Much to their shock (or perhaps not, given the individuals in attendance), when they entered the room, Claudia attempted to hold her younger sister back, Danie's face was scrunched up in anger, and Jack had completed an assertion of his innocence. Being Captain Raul Jay's first mate, and very acquainted with Jack Sparrow's machinations (ahem,  _Captain_  Jack Sparrow), she believed none of it.

She swung out and punched him like a man, because a sister of Jessica Thomas did not merely  _slap_.

Jack fell to the floor at Jessica's feet. The Commodore and the Captain stared down at him.

"I suppose I deserved that," Jack admitted.

Jessica quirked an eyebrow. "I have a sinking feeling you deserve much more than you received, Jack." She held out a hand and pulled him to his feet. Meanwhile, Danie shook out her aching hand and Claudia pushed her into a chair.

"You're lucky I didn't end his life right here," Danie grumbled.

"Are we?" Norrington muttered. He received a fierce look from his wife at that statement.

"Why don't we all calm down okay?" Nicollette broke in. Jack regarded her with a gesture of gratitude. She turned to him with an arch of her eyebrow, which made him shrink back a bit. "I know that all of us are curious to hear how these events transpired. So…Captain Sparrow? Enlighten us?"

Everyone stared at him expectantly.

"Well…the truth is—"

A loud gasp stopped his sentence, and everyone looked to the doorway. Holding a tray of tea and biscuits stood Elizabeth Turner. They watched as her cheeks reddened and her hazel eyes went wide with fury.

Jack either didn't heed the look in her eyes or thought he could reverse it. "Lizzie!" he cried jubilantly.

The tea set landed in Norrington's arms with a clatter. Jessica dashed to right the teetering teapot as Norrington steadied the tray. Elizabeth stomped in Jack's direction and struck the pirate so hard he tumbled to the floor.

Jessica blinked at the scene. "Seems she learned something from me after all."

Jack stood up, holding his face. "Now what did I do to deserve that greeting?"

Elizabeth fumed at him. "Will told me about the offer you made Delia Vargas. The one where you bartered him like a  _piece of meat_."

Everyone else just stared at them openmouthed. Jack had the grace to look sheepish.

"Can't trust the whelp to keep a secret to save his life," he muttered.

Everyone began to speak at the same time, except the Captain. Frustrated and impatient, Jessica rubbed her temples for a moment before addressing the room. "All right, any of you below the rank of Captain— _out. Now_. I need to speak to Jack without any distractions." She ended the sentence leveling a look upon Danie and Elizabeth. They shifted uncomfortably under her glare and followed Claudia, Gretchen and Nicollette out of the room.

When only the three remained, Jessica pulled up a chair each for her and Jack. She gestured for Jack to sit across from her. As he moved to the chair, she motioned for Norrington to pull up a seat. He placed his seat off to Jessica's left. When they were settled, Jessica shrugged out of her husband's coat and lowered herself to the chair. Something flickered in Norrington's eyes at the sight of her in the shift, but he said nothing.

For a while no one spoke. Jessica stared at the floor as if trying to decide where to begin. Suddenly she shifted forward, placing her elbows on her knees. When she raised her gaze, her countenance had changed. Recognizing his former comrade staring out from her eyes, Jack began to relax, until his stance mirrored hers.

"Jack," she began softly, "do you remember the day we met?"

"'Course I do, love," he responded. He sighed gustily, nostalgia simmering in his eyes. "Lisbon. That coastal metropolis with the weighty religious bent. The hat you were wearin' was two times your size, but somehow you managed an unforeseen upset against me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Unforeseen? You were dressed up like a priest, which was the only reason you were winning. I just happened to see through your disguise." She paused for a beat. "And you saw through mine." She leaned in closer as the mirth fled his eyes, gravity in her eyes. "I see through you, Sparrow."

"How do you know your seeing is not spying something which you have seen incorrectly?"

Jessica shook her head at his deflection. "I know you too well. You have done something that far exceeds your means."

"Wasn't left with much of a choice, Jay. He took the  _Pearl_ from me by force. And you and I both know that is an offense of which I cannot let lie."

Shock leapt into Jessica's features and she straightened fractionally. She spied the determination in the depths of his eyes and the cold fingers of cognizance growing skimmed up her spine. "He?"

It was Jack's turn to lean forward. "There's only one  _he_  who sails the seas that bears no mention of his name that you  _and_  I both know of."

Jessica's eyes immediately went flat. Norrington looking at them both, hoping for a clue. The two Captains regarded each other in silence, and Norrington felt ill-informed.

"Jessica? Who does he mean?"

Jessica uttered one word: "Barbossa."

Norrington took in the cold fury marring his wife's features and foresaw that her next move would be malicious and violent. He turned a disapproving glare upon Jack.

"Is there a reason that you chose to involve my wife in this quarrel between you and Hector Barbossa?" Norrington inquired, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"It was my fault."

The trio looked up as Danie hovered in the doorway, violet eyes laden with guilt. The wound on her face stood out in stark relief to her pale visage. Jack nodded at the tall, raven-haired woman.

"I won't allow you fallin' on your sword, love," Jack told her, "though, 'tis a lovely blade."

Jessica turned back to him, full of suspicion now that the  _katana_  had been brought into the conversation. "How does my  _katana_  come into all of this?"

As she came closer, she gestured to Jack, who was examining a fingernail. "When Barbossa commandeered the  _Pearl_ , I took Jack in aboard the  _Diamond_."

"And your rather  _dedicated_  hospitality was greatly appreciated," Jack assured her. A revealing note in his voice had Jessica narrowing her eyes at him.

"Jack Sparrow—" He peered at her innocently. "You. Did. Not.  _Have carnal relations with my little sister **on my ship**!" _ He jumped a tiny bit at the latter part for her voice had risen in a booming crescendo reminiscent of her husband. She half-rose, ready to throttle him. Danie rolled her eyes as Jack winced and leaned away from her.

Norrington placed his hands on her shoulders, guiding her back to her seat. "If I am forbidden to lay a hand on Jack Sparrow, Captain, then so are you." Jessica's mouth formed a line. Spotting the possible mutiny in her eyes, he scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her waist, while his other hand provided a bracing weight on her thigh. Her glare was intended to sear but Norrington met it with ingrained frostiness.

"Let me go, Commodore," Jessica snapped.

"I doubt you would want to take me on at this particular moment, Mrs. Norrington." Jessica's eyes flashed, and before she could free herself, Norrington clasped her wrists in a vise-like grip. She growled. Unperturbed, Norrington prompted, "So you boarded Sparrow on the  _Diamond_. What happened afterward?"

"Danie gave me her word she'd help me get the  _Pearl_  back," Jack continued, feeling mildly safer now that Norrington had a good grip on his wife. "As we traversed the sea, word reached us about a mythical Eastern sword being discovered over in Puerto Rico. At the first, we thought nothing of it, but when we heard the description—"

"We knew what it was," Danie finished. Jack quirked an eyebrow at her finishing his sentence. "I ordered the crew to the island, and we retrieved the treasure…cut down some opposition, made a few new enemies." Danie shrugged as she ticked the events off on her fingers. "The usual."

"I can gather that the item has heightened worth due to the circumstances around it," Norrington said, "but it's hardly special otherwise."

Jack and Danie shared a glance. "Sorry Norrie," Jack shot back. "You happen to be incorrect in that regard."

Norrington gave him a bland stare. "Then enlighten me, Captain Sparrow."

"The  _katana_ ," Danie explained meaningfully, "has been enchanted."

"Enchanted?" Jessica repeated incredulously.

"'Twas a powerful being you laid waste to, Jay. The essence had to go somewhere."

"It's the law of the conservation of energy." Nicollette entered now, Gretchen, Claudia and Elizabeth on her heels. She shrugged when the Commodore and the Captains stared at her. "Basic middle school physics. Everybody knows." When Claudia raised an eyebrow, she added hastily, "Where I come from."

Full of information but no closer to a solution, Norrington asked, "Where is Barbossa now?"

At that moment Danie slid a glare in Jack's direction. Jack deliberately avoided her gaze, giving his hand much attention. Eyes hard, she addressed the Commodore. "The crew needed a break, so we sailed west. When we were in Samana for sabbatical, Jack sighted the  _Pearl_ —apparently Barbossa heard about the sword." She looked to her sister, who looked completely murderous. "Then Sparrow decided he would try to take everything."

"Bein' fair, love, I would've shared with you," Jack insisted. The sound of a growl in the back of Jessica's throat rumbled through the room. Norrington stared at his wife with surprise.

"Explain, Sparrow," Jessica ordered through gritted teeth.

Everyone's gazes were heavy on his skin, and Jack fidgeted again. He firmed his resolve; there seemed no use for hiding.

Jack explained, "After a bit of maneuverin' and inquiry after that scurrilous dog, I encountered Barbossa by his onesies with the express intention to swindle and/or cajole him out of possession of the  _Pearl_. It was just that self-satisfied conqueror and yours truly, with no outside interferences or feminine interests to get in the way." Danie glared at him. "I must admit my original aim was derailed by a great deal of liquor dispensed at his behest."

Norrington rolled his eyes again. Jessica was too intent on Jack to reproach him.

When Jack stopped, Jessica prompted, "And? What occurred then?"

_Pause._

"This ought to be good," Gretchen muttered.

Jack hesitated over the next part, because he knew his friend very well, and the next revelation would most likely entice maiming or murder by her hand.

"Are you trying to tell us that you bartered  _both_  the sword  _and_  the  _Diamond_  to get the  _Pearl_  back?" Nicollette asked, breaking the contemplative silence that had fallen over the room.

Beside her, Claudia and Elizabeth shared incredulous glances. Gretchen's mouth dropped open. Norrington instantly looked to his wife and watched her face for her reaction. Her face looked as if it were chiseled from marble, it moved so little. She banked her reaction until Jack answered Nicollette's question.

"To be honest, I may have gotten caught up in the surge of the circumstances and boasted I could offer ownership of the  _Bloody Diamond_  in exchange for the safe return of my property."

Jessica's stoicism shattered, and indignation tinged her expression and tone. "Jack Sparrow! How  _dare_  you?" Norrington had tightened his grip on her in anticipation. When she moved, she didn't get very far.

Utterly bereft of any excuse for his actions, Jack threw up his hands as if to retort,  _What do you expect?_  "Pirate, love," he offered as explanation.

" _Now_  do you understand why I hit him?" Danie cried.

"Undoubtedly," Norrington remarked acridly.

Jack said nothing. Jessica looked at him steadily, eyes emanating disappointment and hurt. He had the grace to look sheepish, again, and tried to apologize through his gaze. Realizing that Norrington's earlier question had gotten neglected, Danie resumed the tale.

"The next night, Captain Sparrow attempted to ply me with liquor so that I would be unaware of him taking the  _Diamond_. Unfortunately for him, I had overheard a conversation regarding my treatment when I awoke the next day to find him and the ship gone. So his efforts were for naught."

Jack turned to her, aghast. "You mean to inform me, love, that I wasted bounteous sums of precious rum on you and you didn't even  _drink_?"

Danie ignored him, thankfully, before they ended up on yet another tangent. "I hid myself on the  _Diamond_ , and when they met up to exchange I left him and Barbossa behind, sailing the ship by myself."

Jessica sighed in relief at the unspoken implication. Her crew was safe—for now. "Did he pursue?"

A steely glint came into Danie's eyes. "Oh he tried. If it weren't for the sword he would have sunk me. But I doubt he will stop trying."

"Would he come here to Port Royal?"

"I would rather not take the risk," Jessica said softly. She raised her eyes to her husband's and lingered there. His brows furrowed in confusion as he read the message through her gaze. Everyone stared at the couple as Jessica stared at her husband meaningfully. Her eyebrow quirked. The Commodore's features fell with shock.

"Jessica, you are not suggesting—?"

Jessica broke her husband's grasp and rose in one smooth movement. "Snap to, friends. We're going on a voyage."

Nicollette couldn't help it. Jessica had left the door wide open. "A  _fantastic_  voyage?" Claudia smacked her forehead audibly.

Before Jessica could react, Jack jumped up as well, dark eyes dancing with anticipation. He figured that he was safe since Jessica didn't rip out his jugular as soon as she was free. "A voyage! I love trips." He walked up to Jessica and placed himself in-between her and Norrington. Norrington's gaze heated a touch. "Now you're speaking my language, Jay. I knew I needed to find you for a reason."

Jessica winced a bit before schooling her features to more subtle lines. She placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him away from her husband, deliberately putting herself back in the middle of them. She figured she would need to be a buffer for what she planned to say next.

"Jack," she began in a deceptively beguiling tone. "Perhaps there is something I need to clarify…"

"What's there to clarify, love? We're going to locate and/or detain Hector Barbossa for the offense of commandeering my precious ship and hopefully drink copious amounts of rum afterward. Seems clear to me." He paused thoughtfully. "Though we're seeming to be bereft of a sailing vessel worthy to overtake aforementioned pirate."

Jessica appeared downright sheepish. Behind her Norrington cleared his throat meaningfully.

"We're going on the  _Dauntless_ ," Jessica told him, quickly, hoping to soften the blow.

The mirth fled Jack's face as he realized what this meant. He spied the disdain in Norrington's eyes, and he knew the Commodore possessed a set of irons fit to incarcerate him during their so-called voyage. Perhaps coming back to Port Royal had not been the  _greatest_  idea he ever had.

Sighing, he muttered, "Bugger."

* * *

Sometime later, now in more comfortable clothes, Jessica stood at the helm of the  _Dauntless_  next to her husband.

By the time the arrangements had been made to set sail, the morning had run out, and noon loomed over them. Jessica had shed the shift for her favorite shirt and trousers, accessorized with her signature knee-high boots and sash clinching her waist. Other than her wedding ring and her locket, she wore no other adornments. Her hair had been braided loosely to keep it out of her eyes.

Currently, Jack Sparrow occupied the brig, and Jessica had hoped to talk her husband into letting him go. He had conceded in allowing Samantha, Danie, and Gretchen to accompany them, mostly as ballast for her. Elizabeth failed in talking Will into let her go so they waited along with Nicollette, who surprisingly wanted to remain on land, at Claudia's house.

"We need to discuss this," Jessica started.

Norrington's lips firmed. "I am not letting Jack Sparrow go free, Jessica. You cannot convince me otherwise. There are warrants for his detainment, and if I release him, I would be acting in complete contempt for the law set forth by the Crown. Would you like to see me arrested for the sake of that man's freedom?"

Jessica fought a frustrated sigh. "I just…" She threw her hands in the air. "I just don't want to see him put to death. Think what you want about him, James, but he is still my friend." She peered at him as his jaw clenched. "How would you feel if that were Gillette or Groves?" She paused. "Or Lord forbid, me?"

He closed his eyes and sighed gustily as the onslaught of memory attacked him before turning to look at her. "I have already expressed how agonizing that was for me when I believed I would have to see you executed. Please do not allow for me to live through that once more."

He stole her opportunity to respond by excusing himself and striding away. Watching his retreating back, she sighed then, too. At that moment, she sensed someone behind her. When she turned, she found Lieutenant Gillette, frowning as he watched the Commodore. She pursed her lips as he hovered next to her, bracing herself for an onslaught of judgment.

"I suppose you're going to say you agree with the Commodore," Jessica said.

"He only seeks to protect you, Mrs. Norrington," Gillette remarked. "For that I can hardly blame him for not wanting to yield. He has already sacrificed a great deal to have you by his side."

A meaningful tone in Gillette's voice had Jessica staring at him quizzically. He took in her bemusement and seemed to ponder on it. She spied a grim realization dawning in his eyes she didn't understand.

"Gillette, what do you mean by that?" she inquired.

He held her gaze for a couple of beats before looking away. Gillette excused himself as her husband did, leaving her staring after him with her brows furrowed thoughtfully. So deep in thought was she that the presence of someone new barely registered until a hand clasped her shoulder.

 _"Hermana."_  Jessica looked up and found Danie staring down at her. "If I had known—"

Jessica shook her head as she tried to rein in her emotions. They would do little good at the moment. "It doesn't matter. Things have happened and we can't go back." She looked at the horizon, an idea brimming in her brain. "I have to do right by him even though it's partly his fault we're here. No matter how wily he gets, I can't watch Jack Sparrow die."

A smirk twisted Danie's mouth and a familiar mischievous glint alighted her violet eyes.  _"Oh hermana, no te preocupes. Voy a cuidarlo."_

Jessica examined her sister's face.  _"_ _¿_ _Lo amas, hermanita?"_

Danie shrugged.  _"Tenemos un entendimiento, una relación mutuamente ventajosa. Sé lo que estoy haciendo, mi hermana mayor_.  _Me enseñaste muy bien._ " She placed a light kiss on Jessica's cheek before walking away. Jessica wondered what scheme her younger sister was concocting.

* * *

"Any sight of them yet?"

"No, sir. None yet." Gillette remembered Jessica's expression as he had walked away from her some time ago and stared at the Commodore sidelong. "Norrington, I thought you were going to tell her. She still doesn't know." He witnessed as Norrington's jaw clenched. Second time in less than 20 minutes.

"This is not the time to discuss this," Norrington insisted, voice low but firm. He paused thoughtfully as something occurred to him. "Bring me Jack Sparrow. I'd like to have a talk with him before the pandemonium begins."

Gillette complied, saying nothing further. His query lingered in the back of Norrington's mind, plaguing him with nagging guilt. He stared out at the sea, his face schooled to impassiveness, but anyone who knew him intimately could see the signs of his inner turmoil around his eyes.

The sound of shackles whispering brought Norrington back to the present. He allowed the pirate captain the rear view of his military bearing before he shifted away from the water. Jack stood there with his wrists cuffed, flanked by two redcoats.

"You wanted a word, Commodore?"

If Norrington was galled by having to appeal to Jack Sparrow for assistance, he barely showed it. Jack was slightly surprised. Perhaps he had underestimated his friend's effect on the man. "Before we are unable to converse on the matter, I'd like to know…what to expect."

Jack nodded knowingly as he mulled over Norrington's words. "I see. So you're wantin' to obtain knowledge of what I know so you'll be in the know because said knowledge will afford you better knowin' of what may occur in the standoff and protect our Captain Jay."

Norrington didn't even react to  _our Captain Jay_. "Precisely."

Jack stroked the plaits in his beard, giving Norrington a considering look. "I can offer one vital piece of advice when it comes to Barbossa and Jay. And it's very important, mate, so listen closely." He hesitated a beat to make sure his audience was captivated. "Stay the bloody hell out of the way."

Norrington could not mask his frustration. "Be glib if you like, Sparrow, but that's my wife who will be standing in-between Barbossa and us. Any bit of information I can glean would be very helpful."

"Oh trust me Commodore, that  _is_  the best piece of advice I can give." He paused and watched as the person in question walked past, eyeing them suspiciously. Jack offered up a smile that was supposed to convey innocence but looked too contrived on his features. She rolled her eyes and kept on walking. He spoke again when she was safely out of earshot. "That woman's hatred for Hector Barbossa runs hotter than the cauldron of a thousand witches, and she won't rest now that she's got the opportunity to make him into sustenance for sea life."

"Perhaps you can explain to me why my wife hates Hector Barbossa so much."

He raised grave eyes to the Commodore. "Ever wonder how a woman such as  _Jésica Tomás de la Vargas_  became the infamous Captain Raul Jay? An innocent girl with so much untapped potential?" His  _untapped_  had a bit of a seductive lilt. Norrington's eyes narrowed a touch. "All it took was one altering event. All it took was a blade falling into the wrong hands."

"She became Captain Jay because of her sisters," Norrington refuted.

"No, no Commodore. I didn't say  _why_. I said  _how_. Answer that, and you'll find the answer to your question."

Norrington had no time to press further. The call from the crow's nest came swiftly and broke through all chatter on board: "We have incoming!"

Norrington whipped out his spyglass and pointed it in the direction of the incoming vessel. Black sails billowing in the wind confirmed his suspicions. He stifled the dread that threatened to creep up his spine.

"The  _Pearl_ ," Jack remarked, much in the way a person spoke of their beloved.

Norrington searched the faces for his wife as the  _Pearl_ was waved down. He caught a glimpse of her as Danie helped her adjust the strap that would hold the holster for the katana to her back. Samantha argued with two officers then she pushed them out of the way to construct the gangplank for Jessica to stand upon on her own. By the time the  _Dauntless_  had come up on the  _Pearl's_  port side and dropped anchor, Gretchen had arranged crates for her to use as steps.

"Jessica!" Norrington shouted. Jessica did not stop. " _Jésica Catalina!"_

She paused and turned slightly with one foot on the gangplank and the other on a crate, eyes full of shock. He had  _never_  called her by her birth name, not even in their private moments. She said nothing as he strode up to her, dozens of eyes watching. He kept his eyes trained on hers to emphasize his meaning.

He spoke softly, his voice a caress of its own, but she could hear the steel behind his words. "If you truly love me as you have said, you will contrive a way…to return. Unharmed."

Everyone watched as Jessica dropped her eyes and processed his words, something growing between them with every passing moment. When she raised her eyes to her husband again, they were still firm and resolute, but he could see that something had shifted.

Aside, Gretchen remarked to Danie, "Our brother-in-law is stuffy, and at times I wonder if he's got a stick up his bum, but damned if he doesn't have a way with words." Danie raised her eyebrow but remained silent.

"Same goes, James Lawrence," she retorted. "Because you love me too."

She lingered there a moment longer. Before she placed her other foot on the gangplank, she brushed her lips with her fingertips then stroked his. Her heels meeting wood broke the tender gesture and the momentary softness fled the scene.

The person who placed her feet on the gangplank, slightly apart for balance, was no longer Jessica Norrington, nor was she even Jessica Thomas. Norrington could tell by the shift in the sinew of her shoulders and back that she had shed any vestiges of her domestic selves. Now she was Captain Jay.

If they could see her from the front, they would instantly recognize the cold glint of malice in her eyes, the hard set of her lips.

"I'd never thought I'd rest my gaze on you again, lass." Hector Barbossa's voice held little respect for the woman before him. To him, she was still the blood streaked teen weeping tears of grief as she shakily pointed the business end of her grandfather's sword at him. "And here I thought you were reformed. Congratulations on the nuptials. I hope the union with the illustrious Commodore Norrington has proved  _exciting_  enough for you."

"Trust me, the Commodore excites me plenty where it counts." Behind her Norrington flushed as everyone turned to stare at him. Jack raised a considering eyebrow at him and rubbed his plaits. "I'd say it's nice to see you again…but why tell that falsehood? You know how I feel about you, Barbossa."

"You'll be relieved to know the feeling is mutual, Jessie." Jessica glowered at the diminutive. "So I assume there's a point to this meeting since there's a mutual loathing between us."

"Oh yes,  _Hector_." Her  _Hector_  would have cut through steel if given opportunity. "I wouldn't have engaged you otherwise. I could have lived the rest of my life without seeing your face." She shifted her weight slightly. "I received a visit from a mutual friend. He confessed to me that he made an offering that wasn't his to make."

Aside, Jack winced. Jessica's form of payback. It stung. Norrington barely resisted a smile.

Barbossa seemed slightly amused by this. "I gather you're here to settle the misconception?" He chuckled sardonically. "How naïve of you Jessie. You know how these things work. If Jack Sparrow wants the  _Pearl_  back in his possession, it has a price."

"See, that's the amusing thing about this," Jessica shot back. "You have got it completely backwards.  _You're_  the one in the precarious position." She paused for effect. "I have my sword back,  _Hector_ , and I will take the  _Pearl_ too."

"Aye, is that so?"

She raised an eyebrow and inclined her head insolently. "Would you like to prove me wrong? Or is this  _all talk_?"

Barbossa's face twisted into a mask of irritation. "Here's proof for you, lass!  _Fire!_ "

As the cannons fired, she drew the  _katana_ with her right hand and swung it in an arc front of her. On the  _Dauntless_ , they watched in awe as the resulting outburst of energy acted as a gargantuan shield to the cannonballs, reversing their momentum. They flew back toward Barbossa and his crew, and as they dashed out of the way, a smirk twisted Jessica's mouth.

Behind and below on deck, Norrington nodded faintly, eyes filled with pride.

She waited until Barbossa's gimlet stare rested upon her again. She wanted his full attention. "So you see, Barbossa—if you want my weapon…" She paused for effect. "You'll have to go through me to obtain it."

Barbossa fixed her with a hard look. After a moment, he gave a tilt of his head. "Oh, would that be all, Jessie? I go through you and I retrieve what's rightfully mine?"

Jessica pointed it in his direction. "Fair and square."

Barbossa's gaze dropped down and away and he pretended to consider this. Suddenly he began to smirk as his gaze raised to her again, and the curve of Barbossa's mouth was an indication he possessed some knowledge his opponents did not. To a captive audience, he reached under his shirt and pulled out a piece of metal hanging from a chain.

Behind Jessica, Danie snatched the spyglass from her brother-in-law and went deathly pale. "No," she muttered. She fought her way toward her sister. "Jess!"

"Remember, lass, you promised. Can't take it back now." Barbossa placed the whistle in his mouth.

The shrill trill of the whistle reached out like a hand, ripping Jessica away from the  _katana_. She lost her footing. An audible gasp rippled through the upper deck of the  _Dauntless_ , and Norrington could taste his terrified heartbeat in the back of his throat. He scrambled to the railing and stared downward as she hit the water. He barely registered Jack, Danie, Samantha and Gretchen beside him.

 _"Jessica!"_  Norrington exclaimed.

"Fire!" Barbossa shouted.

The boom of the cannons covered up Norrington's order to return fire. As a cannonball careened at a fatal speed in his direction, Jack acted with no thought whatsoever—or perhaps the small one that Jessica would kill him if he let anything happen to her husband.

As they hit the wood, the projectile flew over their heads. Norrington's hat flew off and for a couple of humming moments, he lost his sense of reality. When he came back to himself, as he computed what happened in his head, he turned and stared at Jack in pure shock.

"Sparrow—"

"No need to thank me, I just hope you return the favor, Commodore." Flying metal decimated wood around them, bringing Norrington back into battle mode. The Commodore rose, mind momentarily focused upon the circumstances at hand.

 _"Return fire!"_  Norrington bellowed, fury and anguish in his eyes. As Norrington's crew moved to carry out the order, Barbossa blew the whistle again, for the  _k_ _atana_  had fallen with Jessica, but he sustained the note longer this time.

Jack jumped at the sight of cannonballs. "Stop blowing holes in my ship!" Norrington rolled his eyes at him but paused when he heard the high note split the air.

"What is he doing?"

"Calling the spirit in the weapon," Danie informed Norrington grimly.

The ships rocked as the water beneath them quaked once, then a column of water spurted upward toward the sky. The water receded, and the glint of metal was unmistakable under the afternoon sun. Soon, a human form was revealed with her hand around the handle. Everyone paused to watch as the person grabbed a rope with her free hand and swung onto the deck of the  _Pearl_. Norrington whipped out the spyglass for a closer look.

Jessica landed solidly on the wood several feet in front of Barbossa as rivulets of water streamed from her. Her sash served as a barrier between the skin of her hand and the handle of the katana. Gretchen let out a small cheer.

"That's my girl," Jack said proudly. Norrington gave him a stern look and he cleared his throat.

"Well ain't this a sight for the sorest of eyes," Barbossa remarked ironically. Trying to calm her breathing, Jessica stared at him with contempt. Barbossa's crew moved closer with their weapons drawn. "Couldn't resist the chance to wound me, couldja Jessie?"

"Don't call me  _Jessie_  you rank bastard," Jessica spat. "The name is Jésica Tomás de la Vargas." She raised the  _katana_  with the intent to maim as she shifted into a fighting stance. "You killed my grandfather. And you are going to die."

Barbossa chuckled sardonically. "I hardly think you'd be successful,  _Jessica_. I have possession of this handy whistle which gives me sovereignty over your weapon, so you'd better consider those circumstances before engaging me in a bit of hand-to-hand."

She eyed it warily for a moment before she recognized it. She'd spot the etching of her grandfather's given name anywhere.  _Raúl Jorge Ramón Tomás del César_. Grief nearly clawed its way out of her, she could it feel its talons ferociously scaling her insides, and she tightened her grip on the  _katana_  to keep her grounded and sane.

On the  _Dauntless_ , witnessing the scene playing out on the other ship, Gretchen suddenly shook her head. She walked over to an unclaimed sword and swooped it up, a hard look in her eyes. Seeing her cousin moved to action, Samantha unsheathed her own sword.

"We need to help," Gretchen said aloud.

"We need to fight," Danie added.

"She's our Captain," Samantha agreed. She turned to Norrington, violence alive in her cornflower blue gaze. "Commodore, we're going in. But we need backup if we're going to bring the Captain back."

When Norrington did not speak immediately, Danie prodded, "Norrington, are you coming with us?"

Jack popped up beside him and quipped, "Look at him, love—you had him at  _Commodore, we're going in._ " Norrington glared at him and he smiled sheepishly.

That hard look remained for a long spell. Jack met it, not sure what was going to happen. Experience with James Norrington thus far had taught him a great deal was possible in terms of reaction. But then a flicker of something alighted his green eyes, and it was a look Jack recognized.  _No one hurts my wife and gets away with it._

Norrington swung away from the group and addressed his crew.  _"Advance!"_

The command slung bodies into action. In the melee, Danie strode up to Jack, a mischievous gleam in her violet gaze. She pressed her body to his, holding the position long enough for his lips to curve slightly. Her hand dropped between them and that gaze heated a touch as memories of more intimate times surfaced. A second later, the soft click of his shackles coming free met their ears.

He grinned. "I knew I could count on you, love."

"I always keep my promises, Jack," Danie murmured. She flung the keys over her shoulder. "Now let's get the  _Pearl_ back and save my sister."

Jessica's head shot up at the sound of her husband, much like an animal scenting her mate. Barbossa attempted to use the distraction to his advantage, but Jessica snapped back too quickly. His hand hovered over the whistle, but a red-jacketed form advanced on his right. He slid his musket from its sheath and fired. While his attention was diverted slightly, Jessica advanced and succeeded and pushing him back a couple of steps, but he parried skillfully and nearly made up the lost space.

The upper deck was flooded with bodies; it seemed someone had dashed into the brig and released Jack's crew. Gibbs and Jack had a quick reunion near the helm before launching themselves into the fray.

Barbossa itched to use the whistle again but he had to fend off attackers coming from the right while dueling with Jessica. Every meeting his sword had with Jessica's made vibrations sing up his arm. The tantalizing whisper of power called to him and he ached to possess it.

"Give it up, lass," Barbossa taunted. "You and I both know the blade belongs in my hand."

She blocked a high blow and aimed lower in response, hoping to wound him. "I…told you. You have to go through me if you want it." She growled as Barbossa knocked her back.

"You'll have to count me as well."

Barbossa's focus shifted to Norrington as he stepped to his right with his sword drawn. "Isn't this quaint?" he drawled. "The Commodore coming to the rescue. Pardon me if I don't just  _burst_ with happiness."

"If you would, it would save us the effort," Norrington shot back. He lunged forward in a feint hoping his adversary would engage him with his sword and forget Jessica. Instead, Barbossa aimed his pistol at her husband. It seemed he wasn't out of shots quite yet.

Something like terror leaped into Jessica's face as she spied a calculating gleam in Barbossa's eyes.  _What the hell is he thinking?_  "James!"

Jessica saw his intent before he cocked the hammer on the pistol pointed at her husband. She was too far away to wound him in time, so vaulted up and forward, leaving the  _katana_  in her former spot. At this proximity, the shot had her ears ringing. She collected with her husband's solid form as the swiftly moving metal tore through her clothes, her flesh.

So intent was she on her husband's heartbeat, the vibration of his frantic voice through layers of clothing, skin, muscle, and bone, that she missed the second moment seemed to linger, as if eons had passed when she finally opened her eyes, but in reality only a couple of seconds had passed. She could hear her husband calling her name, urging her to awareness. When reality crashed down upon her, the intense green of her husband's eyes kept her from wavering back.

Her own breath sounded loud in her ears, and she noticed the silence that had fallen. Every living soul had stilled, turned toward a particular event. Even the Commodore had paused incredulously.

Ignoring the pain, she turned toward the direction of Norrington's gaze.

Barbossa took one step backward, two steps. The thud of his body upon the desk seemed unnaturally loud. Without the obstruction of Barbossa's body, Jessica and James finally saw who had ended his life.

Norrington uttered the name before Jessica could speak: "Sparrow."

Several feet away, Jack Sparrow clasped his pistol with a gratified look in his eyes.

After a moment of uncertainty, the once-incarcerated crew of the _Pearl_  loyal to Jack let out a cheer. Those of Norrington's crew who had obeyed the order to advance seemed perplexed, as if the turn of events had left them in a precarious position. Mustering up the will to stand amid her pain, Jessica disentangled herself from Norrington and limped toward Jack.

"Orders, Commodore?"

Norrington forced himself to focus, but the sight of Jessica's bloody shoulder distracted him. "Detain the members of Hector Barbossa's crew." He said nothing of the original crew of the  _Pearl_  who had gathered around Danie and Jack _._  He had not quite decided what to do with them yet.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You owe me one, Jay," he responded in jest.

She pulled away, and when she did, he noticed that her skin had a slightly gray pallor. Concern marred Jack's features, but she smiled faintly. She caught her sister's gaze. Danie started forward, eyes filling with moisture.

"I intend to deliver," she shot back. Her eyelids fluttered and she swayed. Eyes slightly wide, he caught her and shared a glance with Danie. The tall raven-haired woman's eyes sharpened and she nodded quickly to her younger sister nearby. Gretchen yanked the whistle from its former home and tossed it to Danie.

She spied her grandfather's name glinting under the sun and smiled briefly before slipping the whistle around her neck.

"Danie…?" Jessica managed.

She turned back momentarily, smiling ruefully. "I love you  _hermana_." She saw where Jessica's eyes had strayed. Barbossa's crew was already being moved to the  _Dauntless_. "I won't hurt him, I promise. I won't hurt anyone." A tear slipped down her cheek. "I'll make you proud of me."

Hearing the finality in her tone, Jessica began to cry, too. "You've already made me proud."

Stifling more tears, she looked to Gretchen and Samantha. The only sign that Samantha had been affected by emotion was the softness around her eyes. Gretchen's mouth trembled. "Take Jessica back to the  _Dauntless_. The Commodore will be less frantic if he knows she's safe."  _And maybe less angry._ Gretchen nodded her understanding and gave Danie a fierce hug before disappearing with Jessica and Samantha. Samantha merely saluted.

She snatched up the katana and pointed at Norrington's crew as they rounded up the last of the pirates loyal to Barbossa.

"Sorry gentlemen," she remarked in a louder tone so that she would be heard. Everyone paused and looked at her bemusedly. "I appreciate the assistance, but we need to be on our merry way, and I would rather not have to hurt you."

"What's that hotheaded lass up to this time?" Gibbs wondered.

"No use in explaining, Gibbs," Jack responded. "Watch."

"Put down the sword, Danie," Norrington said in a warning tone.

Her eyes crinkled fractionally. "Take care of my sister, Commodore, or I will have your head." Her insolent tone of voice gave him the impression she didn't mean the one perched atop his neck. She said nothing further as she placed the whistle in her mouth, trying not to ponder on where it had been.

It started as a low hum, and the  _Pearl_ began to shiver. Danie eased the note slowly up the scale, and as its pitch heightened, it seemed to leech the gravity from the bodies in front of her. Norrington had broken out in a run, and whatever words his mouth had formed were sucked away as Danie swung her arm in a wide, hard arc.

Behind her, Jack and his crewmen were thrown forward by the force. They tumbled down with Danie in the epicenter. She let go of the energy when she heard the splashes of men hitting water cease and no one was injured. The wave of exhaustion was total, bringing her to her knees and nearly pushing her down into unconsciousness. She leaned on the  _katana_  like a cane while the world set herself right again. She could hear Jack's voice calling out orders but it had a tinny quality. She swallowed hard and squeezed her hand into a fist so tight that when she finally wrenched her fingers apart her palm was laden with blood.

 _Daniela Isabel._ She looked up toward the sound of the voice. In the haze of her recovery, she thought she spied her grandfather's face looking at her gravely. She blinked in confusion. When she looked again, Jack Sparrow peered down at her.

After a long moment, he remarked, "So I suppose the fancy sword power comes with a caveat."

Danie shuddered out a breath and felt something running down the side of her mouth. When she dabbed at the sensation with a fingertip, it came away bloody. She peered at it, then up at Jack.

They never said it aloud, but they agreed never to use the  _katana_  ever again.

Meanwhile, Groves waded over to Norrington. Longboats were nearby and coming to retrieve them but the Commodore's disgruntled gaze rested upon the retreating stern of the  _Black Pearl_.

"That has got to be the most amazing pirate I have ever seen," Groves marveled.

If Norrington's glower had temperature, the sea would have evaporated under his gaze at that moment. "So it would seem."

* * *

Sometime later, as late afternoon drifted into early evening, once the rudder chain had been repaired and the living members of Barbossa's former crew were ensconced in the brig below, Norrington took to his office aboard the  _Dauntless,_  a headache brewing at the base of his skull.

The women aboard (he tried mightily not to think of them harsh terms, but to be frank this whole predicament was their fault) had retreated there, Gretchen out of apprehension and Samantha out of wariness. Samantha had asked for various items to tend to Jessica's wound but had not attempted to engage Norrington personally. Everyone could sense his displeasure and tread lightly around him.

When he entered, Gretchen held a candle to give Samantha adequate light as she stitched up the wound with one hand while the other clasped her older sister's. Jessica, still a bit pale, sat on a high stool, barefoot and shirtless. She held the remains of her top to preserve her modesty while a new one was draped across her lap. Her boots dried in a puddle in the corner. As he closed the door behind him, she watched him tiredly, the earlier bouts of adrenaline having escaped leaving her slightly lethargic.

For a long time, no one spoke. Jessica hissed in pain and Gretchen murmured, "She's almost done." Samantha uttered no reassurances, just continued her work with grim determination.

Norrington came closer but stopped some feet away from the women. The movement caused Jessica to peer at him. Samantha flicked a look at him.

"The bullet missed anything vital," Samantha informed Norrington. "She'll have a scar, but it'll heal." She placed the needle aside and began to bandage the area. He still said nothing.

After a moment, Jessica placed her free hand on Samantha's moving ones. "Leave it, Sam. I need to speak with the Commodore."

Above her head, Gretchen and Samantha shared a glance. Gretchen placed her needle aside and bent down to place her lips on Jessica's forehead. She softly thanked them. When Gretchen walked past Norrington, the look in his eyes made her bow her head. Samantha however, pursed her lips and met his gaze head on. The warning was clear in her eyes:  _harm my Captain and you will answer to me._

Part of him wanted to assure he that he had no intention of doing that whatsoever, but fury still had too firm of a grip on him.

The door opened and closed. On the other side of it, they heard Samantha call out for Gillette, commanding to have a word with him. Jessica tried mightily not to smile. She swallowed her mirth as her husband's overwhelming emotions demanded her focus. She inhaled deeply and figured it would be best to let him speak first. She would only anger him if she offered the first words, not to mention she wanted to ascertain where exactly his displeasure resided.

When he didn't speak immediately, she stifled a groan of impatience and flung her ruined shirt aside. She ignored his sharply in-drawn breath at the sight of her bare chest. Luckily the shirt front dropped and covered her adequately enough for him to find his voice.

"I am hoping that you can explain something to me since it seems that I am lacking perception on the matter." She raised her eyes to him, still refusing to speak. "How did Jack Sparrow manage to evade me for the second time?" Norrington demanded angrily.

"Actually it was the third time," Jessica corrected him. He beaned her with an angry look. She stared at him serenely as she put her arms through the new shirt. That little barb had been accidental.

"It troubles me that you find nothing wrong with that man in possession with a preternatural weapon that had the power to throw me and my men from a ship. Who knows what mischief he will cause? There is absolutely nothing now that can bar him from wreaking havoc and laying waste to anyone in his path."

"Danie actually," she correctly him again, not wanting for things to get muddled. If he was going to be angry, it was only fair it would be directed correctly. "Don't worry," she added when he glared at her once more, "Danie will make sure the weapon remains in her personal care."

"Oh, and I am supposed to be pacified by the idea that a  _pirate_  has a shred of decency and restraint?"

"You're supposed to be pacified, Commodore Norrington, that the blasted weapon remains in the family," Jessica shot back, a bit of annoyance in her tone. Some of her color returned as indignation stained her cheeks. "Yes you are allowed to be dubious of any person of any kind, and in some cases I would be inclined to agree with you depending on the situation, but you're not to insult any sister of mine."

Sensing he could not continue on that vein further without inciting her wrath, he switched gears. "If I find that you had  _anything_  to do with this, Jessica Norrington—"

She gave him a bland stare, unblinking. "And what makes you think I did?"

"You wanted him free. When I refused to assist you, you took matters into your own hands, as you are notorious for doing." Jessica's expression remained blank, from hairline to chin. Even her eyes were shuttered, veiled. "Your actions have consequences, Jessica. You may not like to realize that, however the rest of us must live with the knowledge. Now excuse me while I clean up your sister's mess."

He stalked toward the door, and Jessica still didn't move. She said the only thing she could think of, the one thing she felt mattered.

"If it had been you in that predicament, Commodore, I would have done the same thing."

He stopped abruptly as if he had hit a wall. He had almost expected her to make up an excuse or to continue to take up their defense. Or change the subject entirely. The unaffected and unapologetic candor of her statement shocked him slightly. He turned back to her, some of the ire bled from his countenance.

"Luckily for us, there is little chance that I would ever become a pirate," he reminded her, voice a little less rigid than before.

"Stranger things have happened. After all…" She slipped down onto her feet and gave the barest winces of pain. "You married one. So the chance isn't as remote as you think."

"You're reformed," he insisted.

"A matter of opinion," she responded. She tilted her head and allowed her sincerity to shine through. "I will admit to having a couple of ideas, but what actually occurred was conceived and accomplished wholly by Danie." She absentmindedly rubbed the back of her neck on her left, the side she had been wounded. "I suppose I didn't do too horrible of a job on her after all."

"A matter of opinion," Norrington countered dryly.

"In the end," she explained, deliberately ignoring his dry statement, "I believe the damage was minimal. Jack got what he came for, and you have some new prisoners in your keep. And I…" She paused and pursed her lips against a wave of emotion. "Perhaps I received some closure on an event I have allowed to rule my life for too long."

Sympathy began to beat out Anger for precedence. "Your grandfather, I take it."

She nodded, swallowing the lump that had suddenly lodged in her throat. She swiped away a couple of tears. "Maybe I'll explain it all. Later." She shook her head. "It's still a little too raw right now."

She stepped forward as she felt his anger wane. She ached mightily to chase the hurt and suffering from the room. When she spoke again, her voice was light, adventurous. "If it had been me, I would have whisked you away in rousing and skilled fashion under the nose of the Royal Navy, and we would live on a remote island, just the two of us and a whole plethora of exotic crops. You would grow facial hair and teach navigation and cartography to small children, some our own." Mirth flickered in his eyes, despite himself. "And most importantly, no one would ever find you." She stepped forward until they were toe-to-toe, and she felt the heat radiating off his body. "Not while I live."

_Pause._

"Is that supposed to be romantic, Captain?"

"The fact that I would brave the pursuit of the Crown and Royal Navy and its considerable manpower for you?" She shrugged lightly. "I think so."

His mouth twitched, but he uttered nothing. His gaze dropped to her bandaged left shoulder, and she spied the emotions flitting past as he worked his way through each of them: anguish, anger, relief, resignation, love. He reached up as if to touch the bandage.

"You…" He fingered the edge of the cloth gingerly as he spoke. "You love me don't you?"

She blinked bemusedly at the query. She pondered on the source of her husband's insecurity before responding _._ _If you truly love me as you have said, you will contrive a way…to return. Unharmed._  "James," she said softly. She waited until he looked at her. "He would have killed you. He would have killed me too if you want to be completely frank. If this wound is my penalty for keeping you here with me, I accept it without complaint."  _Because I do love you._

"I wish it could have been avoided, but you're correct in your assertion."

"It hurts not near as much as you would think," she assured him. She exhaled, spying the shadow that crossed his features as he thought of Sparrow. "Would you please let it go? He did save your life. Twice, as I have heard."

He allowed himself a small sigh. "I am trying. While I don't believe one good deed—"

"Two," Jessica corrected.

He couldn't fight the eyeroll. "Fine.  _Two_ good deeds. While I don't believe two good deeds are enough to redeem a man…" She watched him as he worked through his begrudging admiration.

She grinned when it saw it dawn and spread. He didn't have to utter the words; she spied the sentiment clearly enough, much to his chagrin. "That's my Commodore," she said, her voice tinged with pride, affection and something else he couldn't quite or perhaps want to discern given their being on the  _Dauntless_ and in front of curious eyes…

The call came for land within sight. They lingered there, bodies not touching, as everyone else moved outside on deck around them. The curve of her lips faded as he stepped even closer. He leaned in until their lips were a breath apart. Despite her resolve to restrain herself she felt her pulse quicken.  _Damn this man and his pull on me._  She firmed her mouth and decided to give as well as she received.

"I suppose we ought to go home now," she murmured. "Enough adventure for today, I would presume."

"I believe you are obligated to uphold your end of our bargain as I behaved myself," he reminded her softly, his words warm on her lips.

"Hmm…" She closed her eyes, basking in the scent of him and the liquid pull of promise. "Right you are, Commodore. But I never said  _when_ , did I?"

She stepped away as his brows furrowed in disbelief. She turned from him, smiling mischievously as she broke the desire that had thrummed between them, and exited the room.

He watched her walk onto the deck in barefeet, hair fluttering in the breeze. On the horizon, Port Royal awaited, and in Port Royal, home. He allowed a moment's indulgence observing her before being hit with a sudden thought.

A few moments later, as she stood at the railing, she felt a familiar presence behind her.

"Mrs. Norrington, I believe you forgot these."

She frowned at first, but then her lips curved at the sight of her boots dangling from her husband's hand. His thoughtfulness had induced a wave of spontaneity and a loss of restraint. She lifted her hand to take them from him, and as he released them she stepped forward and upward on her toes.

Her voice came out in a cadence that was way too wicked for the current environment, but per usual she cared very little.  _What would I do without you_  was the silken prelude to her dropping the aforementioned footwear and kissing her husband with enough passion to have everyone's cheeks aflame.

When she broke away, leaving him slightly flustered and faintly embarrassed, he asked, "What was that for?"

She merely quirked an eyebrow. "That was me saying  _when_."

* * *

**Danie:**   _Oh sister, don't worry. I will take care of him._  
**Jessica:**   _Do you love him?_  
**Danie:**   _We have an arrangement, a mutually advantageous relationship. I know what I'm doing, big sister. You taught me very well._


	6. Introduction

**5.0**  –  _Introduction_

When Commodore Norrington had returned to Port Royal without his precious passenger, he had to swallow the bitter taste of defeat. He had been upright and moving for longer than humanly conceivable, and he had the low-grade urge for a stiff drink. The fury the circumstances had left him with fueled his movements, tempered his fierce thoughts. He reminded himself to keep his feelings in check, but little tells jumped out of his appearance: the livid gleam of his eye, the pulsing of the vein in his throat, the set of his jaw.

Cutler Beckett, despite his small stature, was not a man to be taken lightly.

His time in Port Royal so far had been brief, but the one thing that became clear very quickly was that the man wielded considerable power. So when the suggestion to take his fiancée to London to retrieve her belongings since they had made (or she had, rather) the decision to settle and marry in Port Royal arose, despite his initial misgivings, Norrington saw an opportunity.

His opportunity evaporated once his charge had been plucked from his grasp by  _pirates_.

The skirmish had been fierce but brief. The aim had not been to maim anyone; Claudia Elena Vargas served as valuable enough treasure. And that impertinent Captain of the ship uncannily named the  _Bloody Diamond_  smirked at him as they sailed out of range of his cannons, offering a salute and a saucy wink.

He would have nightmares about that salute until he wrapped a noose around her neck.

He braced himself for the onslaught of Beckett's displeasure and anger before striding into Beckett's office. Beckett, upon seeing Norrington, cleared the room. Now Norrington stood in front of him, his failure and ineptitude hiding beneath stiff veneer of calm. The smaller man stared at the brown liquid swirling in his glass before raising his eyes to the Commodore. Norrington fidgeted slightly.

"Lord Beckett—" Norrington attempted.

With a light  _clink_  he placed the glass upon the desktop and tossed a rolled up parchment in his direction in the same manner one would toss a bone to a dog. Norrington released the vise grip he had upon his sweating hands and reached out for the offering. Beckett prompted him to unroll it with a quirk of his brow.

Norrington unrolled the parchment.  _Wanted_ , the ink proclaimed in bold, black letters. The visage of a woman stared back at him, her eyes mocking him even from a mere paper. Her shapely lips were twisted into a smirk. He couldn't conceal the slight snarl of rage before it twisted his features. Beckett, perhaps somewhat pacified by his reaction, lifted the glass and took a sip of the liquid inside.

"That, Commodore Norrington, is the woman who has taken my fiancée," Beckett informed him. "Her name is Jessica Thomas. But you know her more commonly by her alias:  _Captain Raul Jay_."

As curiosity surmounted his anger, Norrington lowered the paper in his hands and stared at Beckett. "It sounds like you have a history with this woman, sir."

Beckett chuckled sardonically. "That is definitely one way of summing up the situation." He looked at the liquor in the glass again. "Let's just say for the sake of brevity that my past has regrettably intertwined with hers."

"What does she intend to do with Miss Vargas? Did she seize her for the sake of retribution?"

Beckett, eyes cloudy with memory, placed the glass down again and rose to his feet.

"Captain Jay is little more than a nuisance and a blight to our existence, Commodore. She perceives that I have slighted her in some inexplicable way and seeks to take the one thing she believes will wound me." Beckett paused at the unfinished painting of Claudia with her violin in her lap resting on its easel, and Norrington nodded faintly. As he rounded the desk, Norrington found himself standing straighter.

"Let me be frank, Commodore Norrington. I rarely invest such intensity in a person or thing that has no value to me, but I would do anything to see the end of that nefarious woman." He paused to regard the Commodore. "And if I have judged you correctly, I would wager that you would agree."

"That woman's actions are an affront to the law set forth by the crown," Norrington responded. "She deserves punishment, and I fully intend to be an instrument to ensure that task's completion."

Beckett nodded imperceptibly. Norrington had a feeling that his answer had satisfied the smaller gentleman. "I trust that you will not fail, Commodore Norrington." He walked toward the open terrace doors. He stared out at dock, watching he various figures as they completed their tasks. "Bring her back here alive. That is, if you can resist the urge to end her life before you make it back to Port Royal."

Redemption possessed great allure to him. He rarely ever received a second chance to amend a slight, so he would not take Beckett's statement lightly. "You have my word, Your Grace," Norrington promised.

Beckett's eyes gleamed but his expression remained carefully blank. "I had hoped you would say so."

Some minutes later, when Norrington exited Beckett's office, he allowed himself to exhale. He had expected that meeting to ensue in a different manner, and counted himself lucky that Beckett had not reprimanded him. Now he was determined not to give him anymore reason. His orders were clear: bring Claudia and Captain Jay back to Port Royal. James Norrington was not a man who shirked his orders.

When he stepped back into the sunlight, his features were schooled to blankness. In his single-mindedness, he forgot the world around him, anxious to resume his mission.

Until someone called his name. "Norrington!"

The female voice sliced through his focus. He couldn't suppress the jerk of his body in surprise as he turned and merely stared.

She wore a gown in a pale hue, green he noted as she neared. Her light brown hair was pulled up into a stately twist, and despite her unease she appeared older than her eighteen years. She sidestepped a couple of a citizens and made a beeline for him. He blinked as she grasped his forearm.

Elizabeth Swann's presence at this moment, once he surmounted his shock, was not entirely a surprise. Ever since Claudia's arrival in Port Royal, she and Claudia had become very close, and everyone in town knew about Claudia's voyage to London to retrieve her belongings and tie up loose ends so that she could settle with Beckett. It seemed the news of Claudia's abduction and Norrington's brief return spread quickly.

"Is she all right? Was she hurt at all? Please don't try to hide the truth, I need to know," she pleaded hurriedly.

He forced himself to breathe around the giant weight that settled upon his chest. "She was taken alive," he responded grimly. "That is all I can reveal."

Norrington's statement left Claudia's fate painfully uncertain, and he could see the possibilities as they grew in her fertile mind.

"Eliz—" He berated the faux pas and corrected himself. "Miss Swann, I believe it would be best if you were safely home." Anguish flashed in Elizabeth's eyes. Before she could argue, he added, "I understand that you worry about your friend but you would serve her better if you were somewhere safe."  _And me as well._

Elizabeth shook her head. "I hardly intend to sit at home while my friend is out there in considerable danger." She trained her hazel eyes upon him beseechingly. "Please tell me what I can do to help."

Emotion stirred inside of him, and for an instant he would have complied with any of her wishes to drive the distress from her features. He clamped down on the urge. He looked around for any prying eyes before addressing her in a low tone. "You had Miss Vargas in your confidence. Can you tell me if she mentioned a Jessica Thomas or a Captain Jay? Even in passing?" Elizabeth frowned perplexedly. "I know it may be hard to remember but—"

"Captain Jay?" Elizabeth repeated. "Is that the person who abducted Claudia?"

Norrington glanced around again. Elizabeth's statement had been uttered loud enough to attract attention. Mouth pursed in a line, Norrington drew Elizabeth away. Elizabeth stared up at him sidelong and moved quickly to keep up with his long strides. "Norrington, who is Captain Jay?" He said nothing for a moment, but the flash of fury in his eyes gave Elizabeth a big clue. In a hushed tone, she inquired, "Is he a  _pirate_?"

Norrington's nostrils flared. "She," he corrected acridly. " _She_  is a pirate. Quite a crafty one as I have just experienced." Elizabeth's eyes went wide. The revelation seemed to be enough to silence her. He could almost hear the gears grinding in her head and fought a sigh of exasperation. "Miss Swann, promise me you will keep yourself out of this. I am not sure why Miss Vargas was taken, and I certainly would not like to have another affluent young woman in her custody."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak but closed it after a beat. She mustered up a tiny, reassuring smile and nodded. Norrington felt a giant weight lift from his chest.

"Thank you." He gazed at his ship and his officers, ready for his order to sail once again. When he looked back down at her, the anguish had abated somewhat, but something unreadable lingered in her eyes. "If you recall something, please do not hesitate to contact me. I will take any pieces of information I can gather, no matter how small."

"Of course, Commodore Norrington." He reluctantly disentangled himself from her and began to walk away when he heard, "Good luck."

He turned slightly. "I will bring her home, Miss Swann. You have my sworn promise."

Elizabeth watched him leave, thoughts pinging around and growing in her head like cooking popcorn. Amid her concern for Claudia and her safe return, she wondered if Norrington's fervor was completely professional. Not to mention, the name  _Captain Jay_  sounded familiar, but she could not place where she had heard it.

When her father found her moments later, she didn't sense his presence until he had spoken her name for the third time. When the final terse  _Elizabeth_  sank through her reverie, she turned toward him, brow furrowed.

"Elizabeth dear, did you not hear me speaking to you?" Governor Swann chided lightly. "I was asking you if you had heard anything about Claudia."

 _Can you tell me if she mentioned a Jessica Thomas or a Captain Jay? Even in passing? She. **She** is a pirate. _"I'm sorry, Father," Elizabeth responded. "I was just…" She trailed off unexpectedly.

It was Governor Swann's turn to frown. "Elizabeth, are you all right? Perhaps we should go home. You look a little flushed."

Elizabeth smiled for her father as an idea began to form in her head. Anyone more objective would have seen the calculation in the curve of her lips. She hardly regretted manipulating her father for an instant, especially if this little seed bore fruit.

"I am fine, Father. I just…" She feigned worry. "I wonder how Lord Beckett is doing in all of this upheaval. After all he  _is_  her fiancé." She paused as if the idea had come to her in that instant. "Perhaps we should pay Beckett a visit, just to make sure he is all right."

A second passed. Two. Three. Four. If it got to eight, Elizabeth would get Will to sneak in with her later, which would have been less preferred and much more dangerous. She had counted to seven when Governor Swann finally spoke.

"Yes, that seems like a very good idea," he proclaimed. She nearly sighed in relief. It was extremely hard climbing in and out of windows in a full gown.

* * *

The woman in question strode through the clamorous space, languid and calm. The tavern was a hot spot for pirates and ruffians with loose morals, and she barely noticed the debauchery ensuing around her. After so long being entrenched in this life, she had found that acceptance came easily. That is, unless some misguided soul had decided to encroach upon her world.

It happened sparingly, since most knew who she was, if not by face, by reputation.

The palm grasped her left buttock possessively, and her olive green eyes narrowed. Head turning slowly, she inflicted that penetrating gaze upon the owner of that mislaid hand. He leered at her, obviously emboldened by his gender and copious amounts of liquor. His friends voiced their enjoyment of the scenario and even announced their willingness to share. Indignation was a cold wave that spread from the base of her spine to her limbs.

"Such a pretty lil' thing. Why don't ya come 'n' sit next to me, lass?"

She tilted her head slightly. "That's not very gentlemanly of you, mate," she advised him.

The man guffawed. "Ya came ta the wrong place if yer wantin' a gentleman, lass. But if ya like, I can be gentlemanly 'n' not share ya with the rest of these degenerates." Chuckles and mirth-filled protestations followed that comment.

Her tight-lipped smile should have been a warning. "That's very, very accommodating of you, but…" His leer deepened and his hand gave her left buttock a possessive squeeze.

Her foot shot out so quickly that they barely registered the movement. The chair tipped forward unforgivably, sending the face of its occupant into the wooden table. The crack of bone split the air, and before anyone could move, she had her pistols drawn.

The sight of the ivory handles cradled in her palms stopped anyone from advancing. The stories of a merciless pirate captain who sailed the seas aboard the _Bloody Diamond_  armed with a Japanese blade and twin pistols with ivory handles had spread and circled over the years and in the absence of trustworthy relaters had been trumped up to near ridiculous element. What the rumors had neglected to herald was that the aforementioned captain was a _woman_.

Gently a hand reached out from behind and placed itself upon one of the outstretched arms. The sparrow illustrated in ink and the raised 'P' on his arm let her knew to whom the hand belonged.

"They're not worth the gunpowder, love," he murmured, his voice a silken caress by her right ear. After a beat, she holstered her weapons.

Her former suitor groaned at her feet and spit out his broken teeth. She looked down at him with a quirked eyebrow, then raised her gaze to his friends. She allowed the promise of violence to lurk in her eyes. "Until next time, gentlemen," she said in an undertone before walking away, tugging her jacket over her weapons again to keep them out of sight. The dark-eyed pirate gave the unsmiling men a slight bow before following the Captain.

Jack Sparrow shook his head as he placed his hand on the small of her back to lead to the table he occupied in the back of the tavern. "I thought you promised me you'd keep your pretty head down, Jay."

"You know I cannot abide by disrespect, Jack," Jessica reminded him as she lowered herself to a chair. Jack retook his spot directly across from her.

"You're a very comely woman—what doya expect? Staring at specimens of the male persuasion can become wearisome after a while."

Jessica watched as his gaze strayed toward a young woman in a dress with a plunging neckline and mouth painted in come-hither crimson as she passed. The woman winked, and he smirked impishly. Jessica rolled her eyes and took a long swig of rum.

"Apparently," she said dryly.

"And when was the last time you let yourself get lost in the earthly delight of carnal relations, love?" He leaned in, that impish twinkle still alighting his dark eyes. "You're always welcome in my private quarters if you're desirin' a more…intimate meeting."

Jessica met his gaze. After a humming moment, she laughed uproariously. He straightened, the twinkle extinguished.

"I do believe that's  _nineteen_ , isn't it?" she teased. "If I had a piece of eight for every time…" She collapsed into laughter before she could finish the statement.

"You could at least dawdle in your refusal," he groused.

"Why dawdle? Our fleeting moments are precious enough. Let's not sour them with moving into realms together where we don't belong." Her countenance had sobered, and he possessed enough shrewdness to notice the change. "Especially since this may be the last time I see you."

Jack's brow furrowed. Once her meaning dawned upon him, he nodded knowingly. "Finally did it, eh?"

Her affirmation was so soft that he barely heard it. "I'm going under for a while," she murmured a moment later. "I think it's time I had a break."

A corner of Jack's mouth turned up. "Translation: you're trying to give the Navy the slip."

Jessica cackled and took a swig of rum. "I could give the Navy the slip bare-assed. Especially where the girls are concerned. A little extra motivation there." For all her toughness and refusal to get too close to anyone (Jack was a notable exception), she did possess one weak spot: her family. Jack knew the young women who had the fate of being borne into that family after she had entered the world served as her anchor, her humanity. They were also lucky that she braved such peril to make sure their lives were as auspicious as their mother would have wanted.

Jack himself thought very little of his parentage, but for his friend, the reminder of her own mother and father hung over her eternally.

"Might have a harder time with that than you expected," Jack revealed. Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Word on the sea is Cutler Beckett sent the Scourge of Piracy out to drag you to the noose by the hair for taking his bonny lass."

_Pause._

Jessica's laugh was so intense that the power of it nearly had her sliding out of her chair. After a humming hesitation, Jack began to laugh along with her, albeit uncertainly.

"Cutler Beckett." Jessica recited the name with derision and rolled her eyes.

"I concur, love," Jack said.

Jessica flicked a glance at Jack's forearm before raising her eyes to his. "I suppose considering the circumstances I got away reasonably fortunate."

Saying nothing, Jack leaned over the table and reached up to move a lock of hair away from her face. He rested it behind her ear, revealing a scar on her temple. Jessica's eyes went flat at the movement as the memory surfaced. When they finally locked gazes, Jack saw the animosity simmering.

"But you're marked, love," Jack reminded her. "Wouldn't call that lucky."

Jessica broke the gaze and took a long pull from the bottle. "Well," she began, her voice marred by the rum, "trust me, Jack, I fully intend make sure the mark I leave him is bigger than the one I have." She removed a small pouch from her pocket, opened Jack's palm and placed lightly within its confines. "And this is just the start."

Jack tilted his head inquisitively, but tested the weight of the pouch in his hand. Something—several somethings more appropriately—rattled inside the cloth. Jessica nodded faintly as if to confirm what he guessed she had given him.

" _Muy peligrosa_ , Jay," Jack warned her.

"Not any more dangerous than the things we've already done." She closed his fingers over her offering. "Hopefully this will make up for the inconvenience of meeting me. I'm sure Gibbs grumbled about the loss opportunity for more lucrative undertakings."

Mouth curving, she leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his lips. He couldn't help but merely blink at her sudden show of affection. "Everything will work out,  _te prometo_.  _Hasta luego,_  Jack."

Neither believed in saying goodbye so neither uttered the word. He watched her retreating back with the distinct feeling he might never see her again. Sobered by the thought, he jingled the jewels she had left in his possession and faintly smiled.

* * *

When she returned to the  _Diamond_ , the most of crew had dispersed to enjoy the respite before they sailed again. A handful of her crew lingered, plus their new guests.

By now she considered her entire crew family, but the three women in her midst were truly blood. The tallest approached her first, her violet eyes taking in her relaxed stance. They looked at each other for a long time, speaking through their gazes. The Captain only had this ability to communicate silently with her first mate, a knack that saved them many a time.

Of her little sisters and cousins, Daniela Isabel Tomas, better known as Danie, possessed the dubious art of both exasperating her and inspiring her endless trust. Danie was a notorious hothead, but her talent with a bow and arrow were unmatched, even by Jessica herself. She carried a sobriquet, the Deadly Archeress, for her accuracy and lack of mercy.

After a moment, Danie merely nodded and turned to face the others at Jessica's side. The youngest of the group, Gretchen, approached next. The young woman had just reached eighteen years of age, innocent in comparison to her Captain and stealthy older sister. While she retained none of Danie's archery skill or Jessica's sense of leadership, Gretchen had the gift of stealth. Suffering through dance lessons by her aunt's decree after her mother's passing and for a great deal of time being the youngest aboard the _Diamond_ had honed her gift of staying out of sight and moving out of reach when necessary.

She demonstrated little of that stealth as she enveloped Jessica in a brief hug. Jessica sighed, patted her, and waited patiently until it was over.

Samantha approached last. Cautious and slightly aloof, Samantha Dunne was her second mate, her cousin, and the  _Diamond's_  boatswain. Her Irish father had gifted her with cornflower blue eyes and freckles, which belied her fierce countenance. The blonde ruled the deck crew with an iron fist, often butting heads with Danie, much to Jessica's chagrin.

"Captain," Samantha began, "everything is in order. The  _Thorn_  is in our side."

Jessica nodded with satisfaction. "I knew I could count on you."

"And I get no credit for my role in all of this?"

The petite dark-haired woman appeared out of place in her filmy nightgown and borrowed jacket. Since they had docked in Samana she had fashioned her hair into a loose bun, but thin tendrils had come free, fluttering in the light evening breeze. She looked regal and polished despite the circumstances. Jessica's mouth set in a line at the sight of her.

"You're supposed to be out of sight with Nicollette," Jessica scolded. "You prancing around acting familiar with us doesn't help sell the act,  _Claudia Elena_."

Claudia rolled her eyes. For all her dignity, she never hesitated showing her distaste for being led around. "Oh, I see. So I'm supposed to act like I'm better than you?"

Jessica shrugged. "In most circles, you are. Bothers me none." The other women echoed the sentiment. Claudia's jaw set in a line. "I had hoped you would understand why that is necessary."

"I refuse to be an instrument in your defamation!"

 _Pause._ Everyone looked to Jessica, waiting for her reaction. Jessica stared at the younger woman, features schooled to blankness. Gretchen fidgeted nervously, hating the tension. Danie raised an eyebrow as if to say  _simplemente estar agradecidos y cállate_  and Samantha frowned.

Finally Jessica spoke. Her voice was measured, calm.  _"Señoras, si se perdonen. Necesito hablar con solos Claudia."_ _Ladies, if you would excuse us. I need to speak with Claudia alone._

Samantha and Danie shared a look but complied. Gretchen squeezed Claudia's hand before disappearing with Danie and Samantha. The sound of the water lapping up against the ship filled the silence between them. Jessica stared at the younger woman, trying to find the words to begin this discussion. The truth was, Claudia was more like her than she cared to admit; her tolerance for being placated was as thin as Jessica's love of wearing dresses. However, this circumstance had some unpleasant aspects. Claudia would have to get over her indignation for this to work, at least in public.

"I understand that you carry a measure of outrage over the way people regard me," Jessica began.

Claudia broke in before she could continue. "This idea that I am on a pedestal is absurd!" she exclaimed angrily. "You and I have the same parents, the same siblings, the same upbringing."

"Aye, but you're not a pirate and I am," Jessica reminded her. Something went across Claudia's face. "Perhaps we started out in very similar circumstances, but our paths diverged. My way of life keeps you and Selene safe and allows you to live the lives you deserve just like Mama wanted."

Claudia crossed her arms over her chest at the mention of Danie's twin who currently lived in London as a physician's apprentice. "Oh yes, I am sure Selene _loves_  the way the men around her pat her upon the head like a puppy when she quotes Hippocrates and cures a whole town of sickness before anyone can blink."

Selene didn't like it, but she employed ways of subtly exerting her own power. "It's better than being at sea for months on end wearing the same clothes for days on end and dealing with fierce bloodthirsty men who would devour you given ample opportunity."

Claudia gave an unladylike snort. "Oh come on,  _hermana_ , you love it."

That statement hummed in the air for a long pause before Jessica grinned. Claudia tilted her head and smiled back at her. Several seconds later, Claudia stepped forward and enveloped Jessica in a hug.

"We did it," Claudia murmured. She shook her head and marveled at the water. "I can't believe we did it." Her brows furrowed fractionally. "Commodore Norrington is already searching for me, I'm sure."

Jessica scoffed. "Commodore Norrington. That stiff-backed Navy man? If he seeks to come after me, I welcome it." She looked at Claudia sidelong as uncertainty crossed Claudia's face. "I see that look. You doubt my skills don't you?"

Claudia sighed. "I just…" She pressed her lips together as she tried to find the right words that would explain her misgivings but not offend her older sister. "I had the chance to get to know Commodore Norrington before…things played out. He…he is not going to settle for allowing me to stay with you. With you being a pirate and all."

Jessica guffawed. " _Claudia Elena_ , are you trying to tell me that he  _fancies_  you?" Claudia's cheeks pinked. Jessica shook her head in consternation. "You have horrible taste in lovers."

"I never said I fancied him back," Claudia protested. "I enjoyed some aspects about being around him, and I had remained in Port Royal I would have counted him a friend, but it's immensely clear that he's still smarting about losing Elizabeth."

"Oh, the Governor's daughter. Well good for her, exercising her right to choose. I doubt they would have been happy anyhow."

Claudia raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Please explain O Great Mistress of Love."

Jessica shrugged. "A toddler could glean that from what you've told me. She sees him as an older sibling and her affections are occupied elsewhere. Take it from me, it's a recipe for disaster and a lifetime of resentment and hurt. He needs to forget her and court someone who lacks that preconceived notion of him." She paused. "And draw him away from pursing me." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "That could be a good backup plan if this goes to hell…"

Claudia smirked at Jessica sidelong. "And I suppose if you execute that plan, who would you choose to masquerade as Norrington's lover?" Claudia looked away at the horizon and traced circles on the wood. "I imagine such an important role you would want to no one else to undertake but yourself."

Hearing the implication in her tone, Jessica gave her a look. She flattened her lips to keep from grinning.

Suddenly Nicollette's voice floated up from below. "Hey are y'all playing nice now so can we come out? Don't  _look_  at me like that Danie, you were just too chicken to ask!"

Jessica rubbed her temples in exasperation as Danie and Nicollette argued below. "Please tell me why she came along, again?"

"Because she is important. Besides, Beckett would have ordered Mercer to kill her as soon as she wasn't in my sight."

Jessica's eyes narrowed, exasperation evaporating. Another offense to add to the growing list of  _Reasons to Destroy Cutler Beckett_. The list had grown in the last five years and most of the entries were superfluous compared with the first one and the most significant: _using my sisters as a bargaining chip_. He would regret that one the most in his dying moments. She would make sure of it.

* * *

Three weeks. Twenty-one irritating, stomach-eroding days. Nearly five-hundred and one agonizing hours.

Commodore Norrington had been on the hunt before, but this feeling of frustration was novel and all-encompassing. The pursuit of Captain Jay left little room to think about much else. On some ways, the preoccupation helped matters, especially since he hadn't once thought of Elizabeth Swann. However, his officers noticed that the longer they were on mission, the more abrupt and intense Commodore Norrington became.

Captain Jay had been adept at covering her tracks. Sightings and uncorroborated reports of her presence filled the Caribbean, leaving Norrington with too many clues to follow.

One night at this three-week mark, Gillette had decided he had reached his limit. Armed with a bottle of scotch and Groves for ballast (besides, do you actually think Groves would stand to be left out?) Gillette put a subordinate on watch and cornered Norrington in his office.

To no one's surprise, Norrington was not pleased. "If I recall correctly, you were assigned watch duty tonight, Lieutenant. Unless you can see through wood, I doubt you can execute that from here."

In response, Gillette placed the bottle of spirits upon the map Norrington had been perusing when they had entered. He eyed the bottle warily.

"Watch duty has been reassigned, sir," Groves explained. "We decided this held a higher importance."

"And by  _this_ , I hope you do not mean consuming liquor in the midst of an assignment." Neither man spoke to refute his statement. "Here I considered you gentlemen of the Royal Navy."

Gillette sighed. He should have counted on Norrington being more stubborn than he normally was. "Commodore, we have searched for Captain Jay for nearly a month and it has yielded nothing except fixing your face into a permanent frown."

"That is more pronounced than usual." Norrington raised an eyebrow at Groves's comment. "Ahem, sir. We are merely concerned. We feel you need to…relax a bit."

Norrington's eyes widened a touch. "Relax?"  _Oh bloody hell._  His voice had that hint of resonance in it that indicated he was going to start yelling in a moment. Gillette slid Groves an irritated look.  _Great work, Groves. Let's see how quickly we can get him to burst a blood vessel._

"Not relax per se," Gillette amended. "Just take a very brief break from trying to figure things out. Maybe focusing upon something else will inspire an epiphany."

Norrington mulled upon this silently. Groves reached over and grabbed the bottle. He poured two fingers in a glass then offered it to Norrington. He stared at the amber-colored liquid before raising his gaze to Groves. After what seemed like eternity, Norrington took the glass and had a mouthful. Groves looked to Gillette triumphantly. Gillette rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle to pour himself a glass.

After several minutes, the Lieutenants noticed that Norrington had begun to relax.

"You know, there is one thing I still cannot comprehend," Grove suddenly admitted. "All of the accounts and the tales of this Captain Jay never give any indication that the Captain is actually a woman. How can she move around without it being discovered she is not a man?"

Gillette frowned. "Do you think that she is an impostor? That would be dangerous if the real Captain Jay found out."

"Or maybe they're in collusion! Maybe—"

"She is not an impostor," Norrington broke in, his voice low and resigned. "Trust me, gentlemen, I entertained the thought. But she plays the part too well, and Lord Beckett corroborated her identity."

Gillette stared at Norrington in surprise. He had been tight-lipped about his meeting with Beckett in Port Royal before they set sail again. All Gillette had gleaned was that Beckett wanted Claudia's captor brought back alive. "Lord Beckett knows Captain Jay?"

"Apparently they have a history," Norrington responded before placing his glass aside and regarding the map again. She had been spotted as far east as Trinidad, as far north as Florida, and as far south as Guatemala. Quickly he picked up his quill and started notated where she had been seen. Gillette and Groves shared a look, then watched as the dots began to make a pattern.

_X marks the spot?_

"Gillette," Norrington began as the pieces converged, "what reports have we gotten from the Turks and Caicos Islands?"

Gillette sifted through his memories for a long lull before answering. "Actually, sir, that's interesting to note, now that you call attention to it. I believe that is one of the few spots we  _haven't_  heard anything about Captain Jay."

As realization dawned, Norrington smiled. It was not a friendly smile. But it fled as quickly as it had surfaced, and he appeared his usual reserved self.

"Gentlemen," he started, "I believe we have a heading."

* * *

The quiet had been marginally welcome, but everyone had begun to become antsy. Jessica revealed nothing of her plans, not even to Danie. Even now, as the two sisters played a game of chess, Jessica seemed more secretive than usual. Whatever it was she waited for apparently had not arrived yet.

The mansion they occupied had been built by a pirate who had come into some wealth in a few decades previous and had been abandoned once the unlucky pirate had perished at sea. When they arrived, the front entrance and staircase had been trashed, and most of the embellishments had been destroyed by disrespectful travelers. Samantha, in her boredom, had not only fixed the front doors but made the staircase passable.

No one knew how long they would be there, so they decided to make the best of things.

At that moment, a chess board was set up in between the Captain and her first mate. Nicollette sat in a corner thumbing through a book they'd found on the second floor, and Claudia idly played tunes on her violin. Gretchen complained about being cooped up in the house so Samantha suggested they take a walk.

"Checkmate," she announced, making Danie groan.

"I don't know why I play with you," Danie grumbled. "You always beat me."

"Perhaps that's reason enough to learn to play better." She sat back in her hair and took a swig of wine. She fought a yawn. A glance at the clock nearby confirmed what her body insisted: it was nearly bedtime. She counted heads mentally and frowned at the missing two.

"Did Sam mention where she and Gretchen were going?" Jessica inquired.

"No, they just left before you could throttle Gretchen for whining," Nicollette quipped idly from the corner.

As Jessica considered going to find them, Danie shook her head. "This is pointless. I don't understand why we're here, Jess. We need to be moving. At this rate, the Royal Navy will catch up to us for sure."

Claudia suddenly stopped playing. The instrument lowered from her chin slowly as her arms went to her sides. Her eyes were wide and her face pale. When she turned to look at her sister, Jessica met her gaze calmly.

"Don't tell me you're—"

The sound of the front door opening and slamming closed had everyone looking at the hallway. They heard Samantha's voice and relaxed fractionally, but the anxiety in her tone had Danie reaching for her bow.

Gretchen entered first, breathing heavily. Her face was flushed with exertion and heightened emotion. Gretchen sucked in air to try to still her racing heart before speaking. Jessica sat up in her seat and Danie tensed visibly.

 _"Que pasó?"_ Jessica demanded. _What happened?_

Gretchen exhaled. "Spotted English colors coming to shore. Pretty sure it's the  _Dauntless_."

The statement hung in the air for one long moment. All eyes were on the Captain, waiting for her reaction. Jessica didn't curse. She only gave a tiny nod, fingering the ivory queen piece thoughtfully.

"Let's see how you like playing in my playground, Commodore," she murmured. Aloud, she ordered, "Ladies, assume your places." She turned to a frowning Claudia.  _"Ven conmigo. Y mira miedo de mí." Come with me. And look afraid of me._

Claudia heaved a big sigh and rolled her eyes behind her sister's back.  _"Sin los grilletes de este tiempo?" Without the shackles this time?_

Jessica's half-grin over her shoulder indicated not only would she not be without shackles but the loathed gag would also be necessary. Claudia rubbed her wrists in consternation and followed her sister.

* * *

Their trip to the Islands had taken five days; they had encountered a storm that had presented a slight setback. After docking, Norrington had ordered Groves with a contingent of his choice on a fact-finding mission. When they had returned, the news was positive. Captain Jay was on the island.

Once the confirmation had been given, Norrington assembled a group to accompany him and Gillette to Captain Jay's current location. The voyage had clearly started to take its toll on his crew, and he could sense they were excited to see some action.

He could hardly blame them. He felt Captain Jay had evaded him for long enough.

They marched through the grass toward their destination. No one spoke. Anticipation crackled in the air. When they were halfway there, Norrington felt a presence come up on his right. "Sir," Gillette whispered. The Commodore flicked a glance in his direction. "The intelligence gathered indicates that Miss Vargas was seen unhurt and most of the crew was left behind in Samana."

Something nagged at Norrington but he could not identify it. "Fewer obstacles, then."

"The house they occupy was formerly abandoned. No signs of foul play, no indications yet that Miss Vargas has been hurt."

Norrington nodded, filing away the information. As they reached their destination, he motioned for a group to surround the dwelling. Another gesture indicated that the remaining officers should enter ahead of him.

Darkness met them when they entered. The quarter moon offered little illumination, and the lanterns brightened things fractionally. Norrington scanned the space for human forms, but the front hall was deserted.

Norrington shifted to address Gillette in a low tone. "I want every room searched, every nook and cranny examined. They have to be here somewhere."

"Yes, sir." Gillette went to divide up the men when a bloodcurdling scream filled the air. Everyone's ears perked up. Claudia, undoubtedly. Norrington marched toward the sound, his men flanking him. She screamed again, and he noticed the echo. A large room, he mused. It seemed the room she most likely occupied was toward the back.

The rear-most room had once been a ballroom, but time and neglect had stripped it of its opulence. After a quick scan of the expanse, he found her in the middle of the room. The sight had his heart dropping into his 's face was streaked with soot, and her light eyes were wide with terror and tears. Around her left thigh, her nightgown sported a large tear, edged in red. He could feel his men behind him, tensed and ready to spring. He held up a hand as the ominous crack of a hammer being cocked back filled the space.

"Good evening, gentlemen," the pirate said silkily.

Norrington didn't bother to suppress his disdain. "This isn't a social engagement, Miss Thomas. I am here to apprehend you for your crimes in the name of the Crown."

She mustered up a pout and gasped in mock offense. "And here I was hoping we could've had a nice spot of tea and a frolic in my private quarters afterwards." Her eyes gleamed impishly. "After all, I imagine you'll be more fun than this one."

Norrington's eyes narrowed. He started forward angrily when he had absorbed the implication but she placed the barrel of the pistol in her left hand against the crown of Claudia's head. Claudia swallowed and began to tremble.

"Oh no, Commodore," she cautioned, voice taking on an edge. She pointed the pistol in her right hand at his heart. "Too close for comfort. Unless you'd like to report back to Cutler Beckett that you witnessed the carnage up close. I imagine he wouldn't be too pleased to hear you watched his precious fiancée take a shot to her pretty little head."

"I will relish the moment I get to throw you behind bars and even more the moment I get to witness your execution," Norrington revealed, pure venom dripping from his voice.

She tilted her head. "So no tea then? Pity."

"I would not accept any form of hospitality from you, Miss Thomas. Your intentions are infused with poison."

"And what are yours infused with, Commodore?" She began to stroke Claudia's hair with the pistol. Something flickered in his eyes, and her mouth quirked at the ends. "If I had to guess, I'd say…infatuation?" His nostrils flared. _Ah. Bullseye._  "Well then, Commodore Norrington. If you fancy her, then  _come after her_."

Several things happened at once: a terrible whistling sound filled the air as the chandelier fell toward them. As his men dove out of the way, Norrington dove toward Claudia and yelled to  _fire at the pirate_. In that same instant, Jessica folded herself around Claudia as bullets whizzed around her and the ground beneath them opened up.  _A trapdoor!_ Norrington thought, and grabbed Claudia's forearm.

Someone yelped on the way down. Even when they retold the story years later, no one would admit who it had been.

Claudia and Jessica landed on their feet, while Norrington landed on his arm. The abrupt meeting with the earth (he could tell by the dirt and the roots, they were clearly underground now) knocked the wind out of him for a few moments. The trapdoor sprung back into place, shutting out the gunfire and the puzzled shouts of his men from above. He heard a female voice yell something in Spanish, and several pairs of footsteps retreated quickly in the opposite direction. He hauled himself onto his feet and followed the light and sound.

He followed the tail of Claudia's nightgown. He unholstered his weapon and aimed at the figure with the raven hair. He squeezed the trigger at the same time a body crashed into him.

The unexpected weight threw him off-balance. He started to right himself, but there was a flash of dark hair and pale skin. He spied a familiar set of olive green eyes and then pain blossomed around his right eye.

Soon after, the world went black.

* * *

When they were back on the sea aboard Jessica's vessel the  _Wicked Thorn_  and sailing away from the abandoned house, Jessica used whatever breath she could possess to cackle like a madwoman.

Danie pressed her lips together to keep from following suit. Nicollette emerged from below deck like an excited pet. "What happened? What did I miss?"

Claudia fumed. "This is my _favorite_  nightgown,  _Jesica Catalina_!"

"Calm down, Your Highness, I'll buy you a new one," Jessica promised. She noticed the ache in her hand and shook it out absently. "Damn. That Commodore Norrington has a really hard head."

Nicollette gaped at Jessica. "How the hell would you know how hard Commodore Norrington's head is?" When Jessica didn't respond right way and began to walk past, she demanded, "Chief, are you telling me that you _swung_  on Commodore Norrington and I wasn't there to witness it?"

"The execution was a thing of beauty," Samantha remarked. "Should've been there, Nic."

"The bruise will be exquisite," Danie marveled. "A kaleidoscope of color and discomfort."

Claudia was the only one displeased with this turn of events. "Do you realize that little maneuver back there only fueled Norrington's fervor to catch you? He's going to come after you more passionately now."

Jessica paused. When she turned, a cold calculation took over her and the mirth had fled her eyes. "That was sort of the point,  _hermana_." Claudia's eyebrows quirked. "When a man is as furious as that man is with me, he tends to lose his sense of logic. For a man like Commodore Norrington, being hotheaded in a predicament such as this one is akin to getting him drunk. And judging by that man's countenance, I imagine he'd be a lightweight."

She paused and took in their faces. "However, I don't intend to take any chances. Which is why, for now, Claudia and I are going to San Juan alone."

It was Danie's turn to get angry. "Jess, that wasn't the plan! You said—"

"I know what I said," Jessica said quietly, her tone indicating she would brook no argument. "It is not your place to question my judgment,  _Daniela Isabel_." Danie's gaze heated at the sound of her given name. "You will make sure everyone else gets to the  _Diamond_  safely until it's better for us to be in one place."

Mutiny flashed in those violet depths, but Danie said nothing as she walked away. Jessica felt a pang of regret but quickly squelched it. She could not allow indecision or unease plague her now. If everything went according to plan, Norrington would be chasing a ghost, Beckett would be divested of his fortune, and Claudia would be free. Only the end mattered now. It didn't matter how they got there.

* * *

Danie had judged correctly; the bruise had been colorful, to say in the least, but resolved itself within a week.

Commodore Norrington was furious. Again, putting it lightly. The higher his anger climbed, the quieter he became until most his sentences were five words or less, usually containing words of the monosyllabic variety.

When he found the time to retire, he found himself drawn to the maps. Despite his normal abhorrence of it, a glass of scotch sometimes accompanied him. He peered at the maps until the lines began to dance and his eyes watered.

Until the night he conjured her.

_"There is nothing outside of yourself that can ever enable you to get better, stronger, richer, quicker, or smarter. Everything is within."_

He froze at the sound of the voice. He blinked twice and shook his head to clear it, wondering if he had drunk too much. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to fifteen. He forced his lids open slowly, dreading what he would find in front of him.

She leaned on the edge of his desk, arms crossed over her chest. Her mud-colored trousers started just below her waist. She wore no sash this time, and her belt rested low on her hips, supporting her twin pistols. Her feet, incased in her favorite boots ( _how did he know this?)_  were crossed at the ankles. She wore her dark hair loose, and the firelight picked up hints of red in the strands ( _why did he notice this?_ ). Her green eyes regarded him coolly, and if he hadn't known that he was operating under a great deal of stress and just imbibed half a glass of scotch with little on his stomach, he would have believed the weight of her gaze a real thing.

"Miyamoto Musashi," the apparition told him as-a-matter-of-factly.

He was never drinking again. "You are a figment of my imagination, you are a figment of my imagination," Norrington muttered to himself.

She inclined her head and furrowed her brow. "And if I were real?"

_Pause._

They drew their pistols simultaneously. When the realization that she had two against his one crossed his features, she  _tsked_.

"How did you know?" he demanded.

She scoffed. "I'm a figment of your imagination, remember?"

She had a point there. He put his weapon away, and she followed suit. He settled back in his chair, belying his generally erect posture, and stared at his specter warily.

"And why have you appeared, Captain Jay? Are you here to torment me? Are you here to rub salt in my wounds? You couldn't be more successful at that if you tried." He lifted his glass to take a sip, but she darted forward and swiped it out of his grasp. He began to protest but she shook a finger at him.

"Naughty, naughty Norrington," she said in a sing-song voice that made his teeth grind. "What would your men say if they saw you like this? How many have you swilled back so far? Well, judging from the clarity of yours truly, probably too many." Much to his chagrin, she threw back her head and finished off the contents.  _How exactly did an apparition manage to drink liquor?_ "Hmm…good scotch. Well aged. Right amount of peat."

Norrington sighed heavily. He considered taking the pistol to his temple. Throwing himself off the crow's nest. Anything to relieve himself of his annoyance.

"Nay, ending things is not an option." He gazed at her in surprise. She set the glass down with a  _clink_. "Appears bleak, doesn't it? I've still got Claudia and you still haven't managed to catch me. Twice."

"Thank you, I needed a reminder," he retorted sarcastically. "If you would like to be of assistance, why don't you tell me how to catch you?"

After considering his query, she pushed herself onto her feet and stared down at him for a long moment. The room swayed.  _Yes, never drinking again._  Blearily he watched as she knelt in front of him. She neared until the scent of gunpowder, leather and a hint of sandalwood filled his nostrils. Her face swam in and out of his sight and he rubbed his eyes.

"All right, Commodore," said the apparition. "I'll tell you what you require. Are you listening? Because I won't say it again. You only get a single shot."

"I'm listening intently."

A thud sounded in the distance and prompted a frown from him. He half wondered if they were under attack but couldn't pull himself out of the reverie to check.  _"Open the door,"_  she instructed him.

He blinked again, but she was fading. "What?"

The thud came again, but louder this time. She looked at him impatiently.  _"Open the damn door, Norrington."_

As if the words severed the spell, the image of Captain Jay evaporated and Norrington crashed back to reality. He was alone again with his maps and liquor. The sound of a fist hitting wood captured his attention. When he heard Gillette's voice from behind it, he clamored to his feet to answer the knock.

"Sir," Gillette began when Norrington opened the door. "Are you all right? I thought I heard voices."

 _Open the damn door, Norrington._  "I was thinking aloud," Norrington responded hurriedly, wanting to change the subject. He scrutinized Gillette's countenance at that moment. His face was drawn to blankness, but his eyes were alive with anticipation. Something had developed. "What is there to report, Lieutenant?"

Gillette revealed a sealed letter. "This just came. The bearer wanted me to tell you it comes from Port Royal." Before Norrington could react, he clarified, "From Governor Swann."

"Governor Swann?" Norrington promptly took the note and broke the nondescript seal. He perused the letter; it took very little time, the message was short. By the end of the note, dread sat in the pit of his stomach but his brain was clearer.  _Elizabeth is missing. I suspect she went to find Miss Vargas. All evidence indicates she is headed to San Juan. William Turner is missing as well so he has accompanied her in all likelihood. Please find her and bring them home._

 _Please find her and bring them home._  He shook his head in disbelief. Damned if she wasn't right. _Open the door._

"What does it say?"

It was brief, but as a distress call, it had achieved its intended effect. Norrington handed the note back to Gillette and he scanned the paper as Norrington headed out of the room. Norrington heard Gillette's strangled  _dear God_  as he marched away. It took several moments, but eventually Gillette fell into step behind him.

When they encountered Groves above on deck, he frowned at them quizzically. "What is going on, sir?" he inquired.

The fresh air sobered him and all of his synapses began firing. He felt his men look to him for direction and decided not to dawdle. He had a pirate captain to catch. "We have a heading," he answered.

* * *

The house Jessica had purchased in San Juan had been empty for months. The woman known as Gertrudis de Constanza spent more time away from the residence than she did occupying it, and hardly anyone knew her real identity. This arrangement suited Jessica well, and she only engaged strangers when necessary.

Unlike the mansion on the Islands, the house in San Juan was intact and completely furnished. Claudia spied some pieces from her childhood home, running her fingertips over them and immersing herself in long-lost memories. She found her  _abuela's_  rosary on the top of a vanity that had belonged to her French paternal grandmother and clutched the beads, willing the gray-haired woman to appear. When she opened her eyes and found herself alone, the wave of pain nearly buckled her knees.

"It's bittersweet." Claudia shifted and found Jessica hovering in the doorway. "I wanted to have a place of my own to keep all of the things that reminded me of home, and yet…" She fingered the portrait of Marisol Vargas and Raul Tomas hanging on the wall. They had been newly married then, the newborn convergence of the hopes of two families. "I find it hard to linger too long."

"I thought Beckett had taken these things to cover father's debts." The portrait may not have been worth much, but the cross in the rosary contained several precious stones.

"That he did," Jessica responded, "but I took them back."  _They don't belong to him. And neither do you._

Claudia accepted that as an explanation and dropped the subject.

After Jessica had prepared a small meal, Claudia readied herself for bed. The room Jessica had prepared for her had elements of her former quarters in London, and the portrait of their mother was the centerpiece, hanging above her bed like a sentry. She stared at the picture, inexplicably moved by the idea of her mother above as she slept.

"Jess?"

A couple of beats later, Jessica appeared. Claudia still hovered at the foot of the bed, staring at the wall opposite. She joined Claudia and stood. She sighed sadly.

"I wanted her here, but it still hurts to look at her too closely," Jessica admitted. "So I put her in your room. I figured you would appreciate it." She stared more closely at the younger woman, puckering her brow at the fatigue in her sister's eyes. "Now it's time for bed,  _Claudia Elena_."

Claudia grumbled as Jessica steered her to climb into bed. "You act as if I'm a child." Claudia fumed as she tried to tuck her in. "I can get myself settled, thank you." Jessica bit her cheek to keep from smiling at her haughty tone. She almost passed the foot of the bed when she heard Claudia say in a small voice, "Jess?"

Jessica heaved a large breath, then turned. The bed seemed roomier than she had anticipated. It was her turn to grumble as she climbed on top of the duvet beside her younger sister, still clad in her boots. She allowed for herself to relax. The sensation of the cool and soft sheets coupled with her own fatigue threatened to pull her down into slumber, but she told herself it wasn't time yet.

"How did you manage that?" Claudia asked in wonder. "It even smells like her." She yawned daintily. "Thank you. This is what I needed."

"We all need somewhere to call home," Jessica responded.

Claudia sighed sleepily. "I hope…I hope the running doesn't last forever." She placed her head on Jessica's shoulder. "Especially for you."

Jessica's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's simple: I love you. I don't want to see you hung." Claudia squeezed her hand. "You'll try to come out of this alive, won't you?"

Jessica opened her mouth to reassure Claudia but a chill went down her spine. She listened as Claudia's breathing slowed and pondered the matter in silence.

* * *

"And you're  _sure_  she's in there?"

They hovered in the shadow watching the house. Elizabeth had long traded in her gown for boy's clothes, and her sun-lightened brown hair was covered by a tricorn hat. Beside her Will regarded the pirate in their midst with mistrust. During their short acquaintance, Captain Jack Sparrow had already endangered and simultaneously saved their lives. As far as opinions were concerned, the panel was still out. They could not discern Jack's true intentions.

"Oh yes, Lizzie darling, she is in there," Jack responded, his voice heavy with mysterious meaning. Elizabeth leveled a dubious look upon him. "Do you think I would lie to you?"

"Well, considering the circumstances, Sparrow, you'll have to forgive us for being dubious," Will retorted. "After all, the last time you made us a promise, you and Elizabeth ended up stranded on a desert island."

"And I swore to you I didn't defile your bonny lass when we were on our onesies. Lizzie will corroborate."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Not that it stopped the attempt."

Will glared and Jack waved a hand in dismissal as the topic bored him now he had been painted in an unfavorable light. "Neither here nor there." He pointed at the house. "That is our destination. Shall we go?"

"Yes, please," Elizabeth agreed pointedly.

Jack made a gallant gesture. "Ladies first."

"Oh no." Will led the way and pulled Elizabeth with him. "Come on Sparrow."

Jack raised an eyebrow and hesitated a bit before following. "Well, now we know who wears the skirts in  _that_  relationship," he quipped softly to himself.

* * *

It was past midnight when Claudia finally fell asleep.

Wide awake, Jessica climbed out of bed. She felt a great deal of unease, and she knew if she kept moving, the whispers would be kept at bay. Some of her comrades would suggest liquor as a remedy, but she didn't feel like dealing with the after effects in the morning. She preferred her mind be clear.

 _No._   _You can't run from your thoughts, that's cowardice. Let's sort this out, carina._ The voice in her head sounded like her grandfather. She fought a sigh.  _What is it that you truly fear? Why does your sister's request seem so impossible?_

She paused in the middle of the hallway and reached for the locket that adorned her neck. It was the only piece of jewelry she wore, and it held much importance to her. She lifted the chain to reveal the ornament, smiling faintly at the gold face. She opened it, and even in the dark she could distinguish her sisters' faces immortalized in paint.

 _We're counting on you_ , they said.  _Come through for us!_

At one time she knew exactly what that meant, to declare herself the victor in this lengthy war. Now everything seemed unclear.

She felt the tingle an instant before his deep voice filled the space.

"Good evening, Miss Thomas."

Shock lanced through her first, freezing her in place. The chain whispered a warning as it slipped from her grasp:  _ten cuidado._  As adrenaline thawed her cold limbs, she turned slowly, taking in the sight of him out of the corner of her eye at first until she faced him head on. Her mind raced as she thought of possible scenarios, but her gaze met his without wavering. The pistol pointed at her heart was slightly disconcerting, but she had been in worse predicaments.

"Mister Norrington," she said by way of greeting. "It seems we meet again. You have an extremely bad habit of arriving unannounced. Gave me no time to prepare."

Norrington did not respond to her snark as he stepped out of his hiding place. "You will come quietly or I will take you down where you stand."

She quirked an eyebrow, then blinked. "Commodore Norrington…" She tilted her head.  _"…was that a threat?"_

Either he didn't hear the warning in her tone or he simply didn't care. "I don't deal in threats, Miss Thomas. I say whatever I fully intend to accomplish."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Commodore, just so we're clear—you won't take me without a fight. That was not a threat either." Her eyes sharpened. "And it's  _Captain_  to you, sir."

He started to speak, but his words died in his throat as soon she lashed out with a well-executed kick and knocked his pistol from his grip. The weapon flew over the railing and clattered to the floor below. He stared at her in surprise. She merely looked at him as if to say,  _Now what did you expect would happen?_

His gaze heated several degrees…and then he whipped out his sword.

Her eyes widened a fraction.  _Well, if he wants a fight…_

He lunged toward her forcefully. At the last moment she evaded his sword and grabbed his weapon-bearing wrist, using his momentum to draw him to her. With a growl she lifted her knee and buried it in his solar plexus. The abrupt loss of air was music to her ears.

When Norrington stumbled, she darted away before he could grab her with his free hand and ran toward the staircase. Red-faced, Norrington regained his composure and followed his quarry. By the time he reached the staircase, Jessica was halfway down, descending upon the banister. Glowering at the sight, Norrington quickly followed, sword in hand.

He stepped onto even ground where he was met with the business end of his adversary's weapon. He stared warily at the blade before shifting his gaze upon the woman who wielded it.

"Shall we even the odds?" she asked. "I could take you without it, but that wouldn't be very fair."

"I didn't think the word _fair_ was a part of your vernacular," Norrington shot back dryly.

"Even pirates have rules, Commodore." She stepped back as Norrington advanced with his sword now in play. She blocked his advances and followed up with counter attacks, gratified that she knocked him back several steps.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the master bedroom Claudia stirred. The clang of metal meeting metal reached her ears jolted her completely from sleep. Before she could make a sound, a hand went over her mouth. She jerked as if to lash out but a hushed whisper met her ears: "Claudia, it's me!"

Claudia stared at the person shrouded in darkness. When the person whipped off the hat, Claudia gasped in realization. "Elizabeth? What in  _blazes_  are you doing here?"

"I'm here to save you. Well, and Will's here too. We don't have time to…" Elizabeth trailed off as she started to comprehend several things at once. Dread pooled in her belly as she darted upward and fled from the room. Claudia flanked her, moving quickly in her barefeet and nightgown.

They leaned over the banister, watching in disbelief at the scene below them. Claudia whirled on Elizabeth in horror. "What is Commodore Norrington doing here?" she demanded. When Elizabeth didn't answer, she put her head in her hands for a moment, then removed them and observed the fight sorrowfully. "He is going to hurt her. This will end horribly…"

"Oh no…Father must have found it…" Elizabeth fretted, starting to feel queasy.

Claudia stared at her in disbelief. "Found  _what_ , Elizabeth?"

"I…Father and I paid Beckett a visit. I snuck into your room and found the remains of your last letter. I put them together and they led here." Elizabeth swallowed hard. "All I wanted was to find you and bring you home! I didn't want you to get hurt!"

Claudia began shaking her head wordlessly, tears filling her eyes. When she turned back to Elizabeth, they had spilled over onto her cheeks. "Don't you get it, Elizabeth? She was  _rescuing_  me, not putting me in danger!"

Silence fell in between them as indignation stained Elizabeth's cheeks. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. "I thought you were my friend."

Downstairs, the duel had moved into the sitting room. The sound of wood splintering and bodies hitting the ground met their ears and the two young women took off running again. When they reached the entrance of the sitting room, they gaped at the scene before them.

The coffee table in the middle of the room had been utterly demolished. Jessica brandished one of the legs in her grasp to inhibit Norrington's blows. He had discarded his jacket somewhere and one of the arms sported a small tear. Her katana had been knocked out of her hand. She blocked the downward swipe that was meant to prevent her from reaching her weapon. She placed her hand around the handle and slashed upward, twisting in the air so that she landed on her feet facing him. Luckily Norrington had stepped back a fraction or the blade would have caught him under the chin. Instead the edge caught the buttons on his waistcoat, breaking the thin threads that fastened the buttons on the garment. Norrington glanced down in disbelief.

One of them must have made a noise, because the duelists both looked in their direction.

"Elizabeth?" Norrington said quizzically.

"Claudia!" Jessica managed.

Norrington resumed the duel before Jessica could, slicing the hand that held the piece of wood. Jessica growled in pain. She attempted to right herself and strike back but Norrington had parried so quickly it knocked her off her feet.

Claudia sucked in a breath at the sound and sight of her sister falling, and Elizabeth had to restrain her from jumping into the fray. As Elizabeth firmed her grip on Claudia, the front door burst open and they were joined by Norrington's officers, led by Gillette and Groves. Gillette went to the Commodore while Groves stopped by Elizabeth and Claudia.

The pure, unadulterated shock that emanated from Jessica's eyes as Norrington stood over her spoke volumes. She didn't speak as she was hauled to her feet by two officers. He watched her back as she was led away. On the surface, despite his physical aches and pains from the exertion, he felt satisfied. He had completed his mission and caught the pirate.

"Commodore, are you all right?"

Gillette's voice broke through his reverie. He took his jacket when Gillette offered it, appalled at the state of his uniform. As he pushed his arms through the garment, he took a closer look at his surroundings. The place Captain Jay had chosen to for retreat was not the den of iniquity he had expected. The furnishings whispered class and dignity. Norrington dimly wondered if this place had honestly been hers.

"I am fine, Lieutenant," he responded. He sheathed his sword and shifted to leave the room when a flash of gold caught his eye. He looked again and spied the locket. He idly recalled it hanging upon Captain Jay's neck. Thinking it could tell him more about his adversary, he claimed it and put it in his pocket.

Meanwhile, Groves addressed Lord Beckett's fiancée while the house was checked for any other occupants. She seemed pale, and her cheeks were clammy. He figured she was scared and needed reassurance.

"You're safe now, Miss Vargas," Groves assured her in his best man-of-the-navy tone.

At that moment she raised her eyes to him. The look Claudia gave him had him pausing. The relief and gratitude he had been expecting had been replaced with disappointment and anguish. She shook her head. "I was never in any danger," she countered, then allowed for two officers to escort her and Elizabeth to the  _Dauntless_. He stared at her back, utterly mystified.

* * *

** The Official "Introduction" Playlist **  
_"Break Me Shake Me" - Savage Garden_  
"Nasty Girl" - Vanity 6  
"Whenever You Call" - Mariah Carey  
_"Ready or Not" - The Fugees_  
"Break the Ice" - Britney Spears  
_"Lose My Breath" - Destiny's Child_

_*The girls' father Robert Bullock's mother is French, his father English, while Irene's parents are Spanish. Haven't decided if we will meet Robert's mother Evangeline Gosselin in this story or not. She technically, unlike Raul and Marisol, is still alive._


	7. Gillette, Groves

**6.0** – _Gillette/Groves_

It was barely morning, and Phillip Gillette already had a tension headache.

The men under Commodore Norrington’s command had barely been in Port Royal for twelve hours before the invasion of the crew from the ship only known as the _Sea Dragon_. After their arrival with Claudia Vargas, Elizabeth Swann, and the pirates known as Captain Raul Jay and Captain Jack Sparrow, the innocents were reunited with their loved ones while the offenders had been escorted to the prison.

He had argued with his lieutenants, citing despite the late hour he had plenty to oversee, but Commodore Norrington eventually acquiesced to retiring for a few hours. Gillette had been relieved, hoping that the rest would restore his superior to some sense of normalcy.

The assignment to retrieve Claudia Vargas, and later Elizabeth Swann when she too had gone missing, had taken a toll on the usually unflappable naval officer. As long as Gillette had known him, he had never witnessed James Norrington lose his grasp on his ironclad control, and the drive to catch a very elusive woman had proved a challenging task. Gillette had feared that, despite his normally unshakable professionalism and determination, Norrington had been distracted by her gender. Gillette could hardly blame him; the woman, if you ignored her transgressions, possessed a certain allure, and Norrington lacked experience in that capacity, which did not make him any less of a good leader, but Gillette feared it would make him susceptible to Captain Jay’s undeniable charm.

In his opinion, it would only bring misfortune if Commodore Norrington spent any more time with or dwelling upon that woman.

Riding upon his relief of having his daughter back and Claudia with her fiancé, Governor Swann had added his signature to the death warrants of Captains Jay and Sparrow. They would hang at dawn.

The cannon fire had awoken the whole town, and Gillette had been so startled he had fallen out of his bed and tumbled to the floor.  After he had recovered, he had shaken the sleep off during the mad scramble for his uniform. He joined his comrades at the Fort, assuming command until the Commodore arrived. They had exchanged cannon fire with the ship with the dragon as the figurehead. Other officers had been dispatched to combat the invasion onto mainland, but they had been too late; Claudia Vargas and Elizabeth Swann had already been taken. By the time Norrington had made an appearance, the battle had mostly been over.

As the first streaks of light began to lighten the eastern sky, they realized their prisoners had escaped in the melee. Or so they believed.

“Lieutenant!” Gillette looked up at the shout. It was about four hours after the pre-dawn attack, and Norrington was currently receiving a report from the officers he had dispatched to maintain order after the brief attack had ended, and based on his expression, the news was good but still did not manage to please him. Gillette, who had hung back slightly and awaited orders, had seemed the better alternative. “I think we may have found something.”

The urgent note in the Ensign’s voice quickened Gillette’s movements. Ensign Patterson was a wiry gentleman with a penchant for climbing, an adventurous, inquisitive fellow who had not been completely sobered by his stint within the Royal Navy. His usually eager eyes were filled with dread.

As Gillette stopped next to him, Patterson pointed down to a hole. They were currently above where the cells would have been; Gillette frowned at the opening that was barely wide enough for a human to pass through.

“This had been Jack Sparrow’s cell, and of course you can see that it is empty,” Patterson pointed out. He indicated where he and some others had begun the process of clearing away debris away from the adjoining cell. The wall here appeared to have been blasted as well, but the damage was more extensive. Ensign Patterson and the others had cleared away the stone but the wooden beams had collapsed in the upset. “This had been Raul Jay’s cell.” Gillette crouched to look through the opening. “As you can see, the beams fell during the attack last night.”

“The bars separating the cells are still intact,” Gillette noted, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Do you think someone could still be down there?” one of the officers asked.

“If anyone’s still down there, they’re lucky to be alive,” another quipped.

Gillette shifted out of the light but still could not see very well. Standing he went to Sparrow’s former cell and peered into the wheel-sized hole. The angle to view the adjoining cell seemed better. As the men speculated behind him, the strengthening sunlight fell upon a familiar mane of hair barely visible from under the rocks and wood.

He could not remember having spoken; his astonishment had completely overtaken him, and then as Norrington’s authoritative voice neared, dread began to creep into his belly.

“Report, gentlemen,” Norrington ordered.

No one said anything. Since Gillette was the ranking officer after Norrington, he was tasked with answering the unspoken question. Everyone looked to him expectantly. When he registered the weight of their stares, he angled his head to look up at Norrington. The taller man blocked the light and made an imposing figure backlit by the sun.

“Commodore, I think someone may be down in that cell,” Gillette responded grimly.

Norrington’s brow knit in disbelief for a moment before he crouched down to have a look himself. A couple of beats later, surprise then realization flashed across his face before he rose abruptly. Gillette rose as well.

“We need to get that cell cleared, gentlemen,” Norrington boomed. “There is still a prisoner down there, a very dangerous and cunning prisoner. I want to know if she is dead or alive.” With a swirl of his coat, he stalked off again. Gillette followed, and Norrington said in a lower tone, “Gillette, I want to be there when that cell opens. Please keep me apprised.”

Gillette promised he would. He berated himself for half hoping the pirate had already met her end as he watched Norrington’s retreating back. But could anyone honestly blame him?

*              *              *

 

Oh, she was alive all right, much to Gillette’s chagrin.

After a path to the cells had been cleared, Commodore Norrington marched into the depths to verify himself whether Captain Raul Jay still resided in the Land of the Living. He stopped in front of the bars just as the prone body swore. _What in the bloody hell—?_

Norrington demanded the keys and unlocked the cell. He, Gillette and two others cleared the wooden beams away from the wide-eyed female. She shifted, obviously testing her mobility. The back of her head was damp with blood, and she was covered in a layer of dust. As she attempted to pull herself into a sitting position, Norrington knelt in front of the room and grasped her forearms to help her rise. “Are you lucid?” he asked briskly. “Are you able to speak?”

The insolent roll of those eyes indicated that their prisoner was indeed lucid. “I can speak…but I hardly think you would like what I have to say.” She paused and uttered the last word with copious venom. “Commodore.”

Yep, very much alive and impertinent to boot. “Well, it seems last night’s adventure did little for your attitude,” Norrington retorted dryly. An eyebrow arched, he asked, “Tell me, Captain Jay, how does it feel to be left behind?”

Everyone watched as Captain Jay went pale underneath the sheen of dust. She looked to her left at the cell where Jack Sparrow was supposed to be. Surprise lanced across her features, and Gillette spied the pity flash in Norrington’s eyes before he expertly stifled it. Pursing his lips, Gillette hoped that once Norrington got whatever he needed out of that woman she would be promptly dealt with.

*              *              *

The meeting Norrington had (with Gillette observing) with Governor Swann and Lord Beckett in his office proved to be a clash of differing emotions and ideas. Governor Swann, beside himself with worry and grief with losing Elizabeth for the second time in a handful of weeks, insisted that they use Captain Jay to locate his daughter and her friend. Lord Beckett exuded haughty disappointment the woman in question, still unconscious, occupied Norrington’s settee instead of a noose. The naval physician had declared her reasonably lucky; other than the bump on her head and some cuts and bruises, she had escaped unscathed.

Finally, after several minutes of disagreement from the Governor and Beckett, Norrington sliced through the exchange with a firm, “If I may, gentlemen.” The argument ceased and the men regarded him stonily. “I understand both sides of this debate, and let me be clear, I hardly intend to excuse whatever Jessica Thomas has done in her sordid existence, but I can see some merit and allowing her to assist.” Beckett’s expression went stony. “However, when we have carried out our objective, she will face the noose as planned. Is that satisfactory, Governor, Your Grace?”

The two men approved, and after some stipulations were set, Norrington asked for a moment. Governor Swann and Lord Beckett left the office. During the meeting, Gillette had not said a word, but when they were alone, he finally spoke.  

“Commodore?” Norrington’s eyes rested upon him, but he said nothing. “Is this…? Are we really relying on the assistance of a pirate?”

For a second, Norrington looked down at the floor, fatigue alive on his face. When he raised his eyes, those depths were carefully blank. “At this very moment, I see Jessica Thomas as nothing more than a tool, an asset to be utilized. We will bring Miss Swann and Miss Vargas back to Port Royal again as we did before. Miss Thomas’s presence makes very little difference, but I carry the hope that I can squeeze every drop of usefulness she has before she meets her end. It is a small consolation for the trouble she caused.”

Considering this, Gillette nodded. “Indeed, sir.” He flicked a glance toward the still prone woman. “I will go inform the officers to prepare to set sail.”

“Thank you, Gillette.”

With that, Gillette turned and exited the room. The last image he had of Norrington before he strode down the hallway was of the other man staring off to his left tiredly. It occurred to him later he was looking at the sleeping woman on his settee.

*              *              *

Theodore Groves turned to Gillette in astonishment. “Are you being serious right now?”

Gillette sighed. He and his fellow Lieutenant stood on the upper deck of the _Dauntless_ , overseeing the final check before they set sail once again, and Gillette had just finished relating the meeting with the Governor and Lord Beckett. Commodore Norrington had not made an appearance since Gillette had left him in his office with Captain Jay. They could only imagine, given the carnage from their battle in San Juan, how _that_ discussion was going.

“This is certainly not the best time for me to jest, Groves,” Gillette responded. “We are in the midst of very dire circumstances.”

“All the more to have a chuckle to break the monotony,” Groves quipped.  Gillette gave a slight shake of his head in consternation. Growing serious again, Groves sidestepped a group of officers. “But in all seriousness, we’re going to use Captain Jay to find Miss Swann and Miss Vargas?”

“I would rather ask the assistance of a rabid dog.”

Below on the dock, the woman in question appeared with Commodore Norrington, Governor Swann and Lord Beckett. Her back was to them, but her long dark hair and the borrowed red jacket made her distinguishable. Not to mention, Norrington’s aggravated expression confirmed her identity. Groves gestured to her. “It looks like the Commodore shares your sentiment.” They watched as she turned toward the ship. She paused and asked Norrington a question. Surprise flitted across the Commodore’s features when he responded. She turned and strode up the gangplank with an ease that came with much practice. “Don’t look now. Look who comes our way.”

Captain Jay ascended the gangplank, shackled hands in front of her. She paid no attention to them, walking up the railing on the starboard side with her head bowed. The two men watched in bemusement as she raised her hands…and placed them on the wood reverently. Her lips moved but they couldn’t tell what she was saying.

“I wonder what that was all about,” Groves wondered aloud.

Commodore Norrington walked up to the woman. He prompted her for a heading, and when she turned, confusion filled her features. They spoke for a few moments, during which the Captain rolled her eyes, and after the exchange, the Commodore stared at her as he considered something.

“Lieutenant Gillette!” Norrington suddenly called out. “Fetch me the keys if you would?”

“Looks like you’re up,” Groves stated before disappearing into the bustle. Gillette forced himself to relax his stiff face and walked up to the Captain and the Commodore. Norrington said nothing, merely quirked an eyebrow, and Gillette stepped over to the dark-haired woman.

He tried not to stare into her face, instead focusing on her hands. They were rough and hardened for a woman with short, torn nails. He stuck the key in the lock and witnessed her fingers relax. When he removed them, she raised her hands and rubbed her wrists.

“Should I keep these near in case of...?” Gillette trailed off at Jessica’s innocent look. She managed it well, but he knew better. “Insurrection?”

“Stash them in my quarters if you please, Lieutenant.”

Gillette blinked in surprise at the directive. Was Norrington implying that he was actually sharing quarters with that blasted woman? _Ridiculous!_

“Commodore, I did not realize you were into bondage,” Jessica retorted.

“Only for you, Captain,” Norrington countered in a tone so dry it would have floated on water. Gillette felt all sense of decorum leave him, rendering him slack in its absence. He was shrewd enough to catch the undercurrent of flirtation and the possibility had bile rising. To the nearly gaping Gillette, he said, “Please make sure everything is in place for our voyage. That will be all for now, Lieutenant.”

Gillette cleared his throat to loosen the astonishment that had gotten stuck there. “Yes, sir.” He stole a glance at Jessica that was fraught with speculation before walking away.

As he crossed the upper deck to reach the Commodore’s private quarters below, Gillette mulled over that moment he just witnessed. It was clear to him that the Commodore and the pirate possessed a mutual distaste for one other. However, he could not ignore the undercurrent of flirtation he had caught during that last exchange.

The Commodore, flirting with a known pirate? That _had_ to be a fluke. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him…

“Lieutenant!” Gillette broke out of his thoughts and paused as Ensign Patterson came running up to him. Excitement danced in Patterson’s eyes and he was out of breath from running. He inhaled deeply before speaking. “I need to take you down to the cargo hold, sir.”

He frowned. “Is there something wrong, Ensign?”

Patterson nodded. “We discovered a stowaway.”

Gillette cursed inwardly. Norrington was going to be _pissed_.

Gillette, Patterson and a couple of their fellow officers ventured down to the cargo hold and with muskets and lamplight. Patterson pointed toward the far corner and Gillette raised a hand as if to stop them. He moved forward, focusing on the corner Patterson indicated. He had not encountered many stowaways since being under Norrington’s command; generally they were of the harmless sort, but Gillette was not going to take any chances.

As Gillette neared the corner, his eyes could make out a shape that looked a folded human of petite stature. The person had her knees up to her chest and forearms on her knees. Her head rested on her forearms and her eyes were closed.

It took only a second before he recognized her.

“What in blazes—?” Gillette managed in a low tone. In a louder tone, he bellowed, “Identify your business here immediately!”

The dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-skinned ball opened her eyes and raised her head at the sound of Gillette’s voice, taking in the muskets pointed in her direction coolly. When Gillette and the redcoats advanced she cocked an eyebrow and said quietly the one word that if it were humanly possible would have made Gillette’s head explode: _“Parley.”_

The men looked at each other as they lowered their muskets fractionally. Gillette almost nearly smacked his forehead. They had to take her to Norrington.

He dreaded it already.

 

*              *              *

 

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t _that_ bad.”

Groves peered at the dark-skinned, dark-haired young woman across the table as she laid out playing cards on the tabletop between them to play Solitaire next to her lunch. A sullen Captain Jay shadowed an irritable Norrington, and after their short trip to Tortuga that previous afternoon, Nicollette avoided the pair.

Once Gillette had presented Nicollette Smith, who had been hiding in their cargo hold, to Commodore Norrington, Nicollette had relayed her perspective on the pirate raid. Norrington disbelieved that she had no influence in the event, but before he could lock her away, Captain Jay explained that _she_ had been the one who had ordered Nicollette to steal onto the _Dauntless_. Feeling like his authority was in question, Norrington had ordered Gillette and a few others to Tortuga on an intelligence gathering mission and purposefully ignored the Captain’s suggestion. Much to Norrington’s mortification, Gillette and company had nearly been maimed, and the mission had been fruitless. Jessica suggested they try again—with him in disguise accompanying herself and Nicollette.

The trio had returned with viable information—and the Captain and Commodore going at each other’s throats. Nicollette had muttered something about someone named Scotty beaming her up (whatever _that_ meant) and made herself scarce.

Because of her tenuous position within the ship’s hierarchy, Groves took the initiative and kept watch over her, making sure she didn’t land herself into trouble. He found that the longer he spent with the young woman, the more she intrigued him. He possessed the impression that she was well-educated (the discussion of her ethnicity had been pithy and she had merely asked him not to judge her based on it) and more observant than others realized.

“Considering what, Miss Smith?’ Groves inquired. “The fact that they both hate each other?”

Nicollette chuckled and matched a three of hearts with a four of clubs. “You know, there’s a saying where I come from. _Hate is not the opposite of love._ ” When Groves raised an eyebrow at her, she clarified, mistaking his look for confusion, “Basically when you feel strongly about something or someone, it doesn’t matter how the feelings are bent, it’s pretty much the same thing.”

“So you believe that the Commodore and the Captain can exist on more…amicable terms?”

Nicollette lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “They’ve gotta get there, but maybe it’s possible.” She eyed the duo as they passed. Norrington looked like he was about to experience a major cardiac event. “I think they need to fight it out.” 

Groves promptly choked on his beverage as Gillette strode up. “Are you all right?” he asked Groves. 

Shaking her head, Nicollette rose to pat Groves on the back. Groves cleared his throat and coughed before answering. “I’m fine.” He turned to Nicollette. “Fight it out? What would that solve?” 

“Fighting? Who’s fighting it out?” Gillette wanted to know. 

“The Commodore and the Captain,” Groves clarified. 

Gillette paled slightly and his eyes went wide. “Why in the name of all that’s holy would we want that? They would utterly massacre each other!” 

“Or maybe they might not,” Nicollette insisted. She still felt wary of Gillette for his treatment of her the day previous. The feeling was mutual. “Maybe it might sweep away some of the tension between them. If one wins, other will respect him or her and _splakow!_ No more tension.”

“It might not be that simple, Miss Smith,” Groves cautioned. 

“And let us not forget the obvious fact that Captain Jay is a _prisoner_ , shall we?” Gillette pointed out. Nicollette crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight onto her left foot in a stance of talking badness. “She doesn’t deserve the Commodore’s respect, or anyone’s for that matter.” 

Nicollette’s eyes narrowed. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that she could have spit in the Commodore’s face and declined when he ordered her to come along? You might not be able to grasp this because _evidently_ your wig is on too tight but there is this tiny little concept called free will. This whole venture depends upon the Captain’s cooperation. Without her, you’re fucked.” She gathered her cards and secured the deck in her pocket. “And since you’re less the _cojones_ to fix the issue, _I’m_ gonna do it.” She squared her shoulders. “Watch and learn. You’re about to get schooled.”

 

*              *              *

 

On the upper deck, the normal bustle had been quelled to stillness. Everyone gathered in a large circle around two figures. On the starboard side of the ship, Nicollette stood with Jessica’s jacket draped over her arm at the very front next to Mullroy who held the Commodore’s blue jacket and tricorn hat. She watched the duo preparing themselves for the duel with a satisfied gleam in her eyes. Gillette reached her seconds before Groves did. 

Gillette looked down at her in disbelief. “Do you know what you have done?” 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Nicollette shot back impertinently, “but the question is, do _you_?” 

Yards away, Norrington straightened his cuffs, his manner smooth and unruffled. “I have the advantage of winning against you once, Miss Thomas,” he reminded her. “I am only indulging this in the hopes that you get the point this time.” 

A corner of her mouth turned up as she lifted her head and stared at him, but fury lurked in her eyes. “Don’t get cocky, Commodore. Those were different circumstances. I believe we will be afforded no interruptions or distractions.” She tested the weight of the weapon Murtogg handed her. It possessed a slighter presence than her regular blade, but it would do for now. “And you _will_ call me Captain. Prisoner or not, I still deserve the designation.” 

“As far as I am concerned, Miss Thomas,” Norrington began, settling into a fighting stance, “you will have to earn that right.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can?” 

He eyed her over the length of the sword he pointed in her direction. “To be completely frank….not particularly.” 

“Well then, Commodore, I have only two words for you.” She lifted her sword as well, meeting that green-eyed gaze over the metal. _“Watch me.”_  

They both lunged forward at the same time, weapons extended. Metal met and clanged loudly. Arms flew furiously as one blocked the other’s blows and tried to land some of their own. Their movements held more stealth than grace, but Jessica executed a spin worthy of a dancer and expertly blocked Norrington when he attempted to slip under her guard to pierce her side. She only had the advantage briefly until Norrington came at her with an intense set of thrusts and lashes. 

“Getting tired, Miss Thomas?” Norrington taunted. 

She feinted left and caught Norrington’s wrist to bring him close to her. Surprise then disdain jumped into his eyes. “No, _Mr._ Norrington, I am merely getting warmed up.” She shoved him back so hard he nearly fell. When he righted himself, they resumed their furious dance with the colliding blades. 

Aside, Groves watched with something approaching admiration as the exchange of blows resumed. “She is pretty good.” 

Nicollette gave him a look. “Pretty good? Saying that woman is only _pretty good_ is like saying the Black Plague was a _little outbreak_. You all are really good at understatements around here.” 

With a twist of wrist, Norrington changed his angle of attack but Jessica deftly blocked it. The men seemed to collectively tense when Jessica disarmed him with her weapon. He attempted to catch it but the effort was unsuccessful. His sword clattered to the wood and tumbled away. Face filled with determination, he dodged her as she pursued and attempted to back him into a corner. The whistle of metal coming at high velocity as Jessica swung at him had Gillette going pale. He leaned back out of harm’s way and as Jessica gathered the energy to strike again, he blocked her forearm and twisted her wrist. Watching, Nicollette’s eyes widened as Jessica growled with fury and pain and dropped her sword. 

“We should stop this,” Gillette said tersely as the Commodore and the Captain alternatively blocked the other from reaching their weapons.  He grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her back as he attempted to advance to his sword. Red faced, she shifted into a low crouch and swept his feet out from beneath him. 

“It is getting rather…” Almost within reach of her sword, Jessica tumbled to the ground and slid a few feet. The main mast stopped her and she gave the barest of winces. “Intense…” Groves looked at Nicollette. “Maybe Gillette is right.” 

“Hell no!” Nicollette disagreed. She wasn’t about to admit that _Gillette_ of all people had a point. She’d eat worms first. “To be fair, no one has won yet. Let it be.” However, she didn’t appear entirely confident in her words.    

Jessica, back to the main mast, witnessed with the audience Norrington retrieving his weapon. His stride was firm and relentless in her direction. Her assessment of the situation was lightning fast. She looked at Norrington then quickly above. As Norrington swung, she grabbed a mooring line and pulled herself up. She scaled the wood a few steps and then pushed off the mast with her feet as Norrington lunged at her. He fumed at her airborne figure. 

“That’s my girl!” Nicollette exclaimed. She received an eyeroll from Gillette for that remark. 

He advanced, but Jessica released the rope and used the momentum to slide between his legs. She scooped up her weapon as she slid, whirled into a crouch and aimed. Meanwhile, he rushed forward to catch her and aimed his own weapon at the crouching woman. 

The business end of Jessica’s sword rested at the obvious location of Norrington’s crotch. Meanwhile, Norrington’s sword pointed menacingly at Jessica’s left breast. 

The whole upper deck went deathly quiet. 

“Oh my word,” Groves breathed. 

“Oh….shit,” Nicollette gasped out in horror. She massaged her temples fretfully. “This can’t be a good sign. Freud would have a field day with this.” 

“Who?” Groves asked. Nicollette waved a hand in dismissal. 

Next to Nicollette, Gillette shook his head in disbelief. “We need to call this to an end,” he remarked. 

“I agree,” Groves offered. 

 _Pause._

Nicollette’s eyes narrowed. They both were staring at her expectantly. She looked back and forth between them in exasperation. _“Seriously?”_ she fumed. 

Gillette crossed his arms over his chest. “You prompted his whole mess, so I imagine that you should go fix it.” 

She gave a giant eyeroll. Groves patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. “Get ‘em, Tiger. Go school them.” He received a glare for that encouraging remark. 

Nicollette tiptoed near, careful not to upset the quiet. She suspected at this rate it would take dynamite to break them apart however. Her eyes swept between them. It was as if they were made of granite. _I really hope I don’t regret this._  

 _Pause._  

She inhaled quickly— 

—Then bellowed as loud as she could, _“Draw!”_  

The duelists both jumped as if startled. Norrington came to his senses more quickly, but he still brandished his weapon, and she held up her hands in a gesture of goodwill when he swung it in her direction. “Hold the blade there, sir. It got a little intense, just breaking the tension.” She looked to Jessica as she climbed to her feet. “I think we can all agree that”—Nicollette found it difficult not to get flustered again—”this little duel ended without a winner”—a silent _wooph_ here for calming purposes—”or a loser. Isn’t that right boys?” 

_Pause._

She slid a glare in Groves and Gillette’s direction. “I _said, isn’t that right boys?_ ” Her face scrunched menacingly. _You better back me up, dammit!_  

Groves gave Gillette a shove, for which he received another glare. Gillette mustered up bravery and straightened his spine, hoping that he exuded anything but the fear that coursed through his veins at the moment. “Yes, I believe that is quite clear that both wounds would have been fatal if it had been a real skirmish, therefore, you both won…” Norrington’s eyes hardened. “…sir.” 

Jessica tossed her borrowed weapon to Murtogg who fumbled before sheathing it. Nicollette took a tiny step back as Jessica came forward to address Norrington. “I hope that disabuses any notion that you are superior to me, Commodore.” 

“Your technique is unrefined,” Norrington remarked disdainfully. “You are a pirate, therefore you fight like one, thriving on subterfuge and cutting corners. And your moves are heavy-handed.” 

She countered, “My technique has been perfected for the blade I acquired. Would you like to play with my _katana_ , Commodore? I assure you, it weighs about twice your weapon.” 

Norrington stared at her for a long moment. When he sheathed his sword, everyone relaxed fractionally. Gillette announced that the “presentation” had been concluded, and everyone returned to their duties. Mullroy walked up with Norrington’s coat, and he slipped his arms into it, saying nothing.  Jessica watched him coolly, her gaze sweeping from head to heel. She focused on a spot below his belt and her head tilted thoughtfully. Nicollette frowned at her, then followed her gaze. When her eyes rested upon the area that had Jessica’s attention, she jumped as if touched by electrical current and covered her mouth. Nicollette looked away before she could form an actual thought on the…matter. 

Wordlessly, Jessica stepped to Norrington closely enough to have brows raising, including Norrington’s. Her eyes flicked downward before meeting his. His eyebrow arched. “One could worry about someone like you being so close, but we both know how little of a threat you pose.”   

She didn’t even blink. After a beat she remarked, “You should take care of that before it gets bigger.” 

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?” 

She leaned in and remarked in a low secretive tone, “You have a hole in your breeches.” 

As far as parting words went, she had struck gold, made the winning shot, hit the red bullseye so skillfully Cupid was jealous. Norrington paled slightly as she walked away. Gillette and Groves entered the scene as Norrington adjusted himself. Nicollette looked like she had forgotten how to inhale and exhale. 

“I’ma go…you know…put my head between my legs,” Nicollette announced. She stumbled off like a tottering wino toward a barrel before her legs gave out with the sheer incredulity of the situation. 

“Dare I even…?” Groves attempted. 

“Best not, Lieutenant,” Norrington said quietly, yanking up a barrier over his mortification. The three men spoke no more on the subject.

 

*              *              *

 

One day a week later after the duel, the calm monotony of their search had been broken by a monstrous sight. 

It had been close to sunset. The gold and pink streaking the darkening sky was a painfully beautiful backdrop to the horror before them. The upper deck of the _Dauntless_ had fallen silent with surprise and sorrow. Commodore Norrington stood upon the forecastle deck, face stony but eyes radiating a barely repressed anguish. The emotion he fought to conceal seeped from Captain Jay on his left, who absorbed the sight of floating fragments of bodies amid the wreckage of a merchant ship with a growing, palpable fury. 

Thirty six-hours prior to this very moment, the _Dauntless_ had intercepted the merchant vessel the _Regal Starling_. Fear dominating his voice, the brawny captain described to them wreckage left behind by a nefarious pirate ship with a dragon on the bow. Legend had already begun weaving its wispy trail through his tale, leaving Norrington anxious to move forward and dispel the illusions and Jessica being uncharacteristically cautious and wanting to gain more information. 

Much to her chagrin, Norrington prevailed. A day and a half later, the _Dauntless_ drifted into this circle of ruins. 

From Norrington’s right, Gillette whispered, “What would have done such a thing?” 

No one answered his query. Groves swallowed hard, and Nicollette blinked back tears. After a moment, Captain Jay whirled away and stomped downward. She yanked her jacket off her frame as Norrington’s eyebrows furrowed fractionally. A beat later, he followed her. 

“This is not the time to be rash, Miss Thomas,” Norrington began. 

She paused and turned. Fury tinged her face pink. “You need to drop anchor, Commodore. You and I both know who was here.” 

He fought a sigh. “I doubt anyone survived, Miss Thomas. It is regrettable, but we must move on.” 

Still, she persisted. “Drop the anchor so I can see for myself. Maybe something was left behind.” 

“You must be mistaken if you think you are getting off this vessel. I will not allow it.” 

“I’d like to see you make the attempt. Drop anchor, Commodore.” 

“I refuse to subject my men to that massacre in order to indulge—” 

 _“Drop the goddamn anchor, Norrington!”_ Captain Jay bellowed with a burst of rage. She stormed off before he could respond—or scold. Several feet away, Nicollette’s eyes went huge. He watched her retreating back and summed up the situation in his head. Cursing inwardly, he instructed Groves to have the men drop the anchor. 

After the _Dauntless_ had been slowed, three longboats splashed in the water. Commodore Norrington lowered himself to one, while Groves, Captain Jay, and Nicollette went in another. Gillette remained onboard. 

When they returned, Gillette spied the heaviness of their newfound knowledge. Of the four, Commodore Norrington returned first. When Gillette asked what they found, Norrington had to take a moment. Clearly what they encountered still affected him more than he cared to admit. 

“Utter devastation, Lieutenant,” was all Norrington could manage. He shoved back his emotions to deal with them later. “Has Groves returned yet?” _With Captain Jay?_  

Gillette pressed his lips together and shook his head. “He’s still out there. Perhaps we should—” 

His sentence stopped abruptly at the sound of feet hitting wood. The men turned to find Groves helping Nicollette onto the upper deck. When Nicollette was safely on her feet, Groves turned to help the other woman, but she refused his offer and landed on the deck with a heavy thud. The set of her features indicated she was enraged. 

“Were there any survivors?” She started past him but he grabbed her arm. “Miss Thomas, I asked you a question. Were there any survivors?” 

Something deeper than her usual desire to strike him lingered in her eyes. “Leave me be, Commodore Norrington, or I will forget myself and strike you.” 

As Norrington reeled from the threat, Jessica turned on her heel and stalked off. Nicollette, solemn-eyed, murmured, “I’ve got her, Commodore.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she added, “And I’ll take M & M with me. I know the rules.” Louder, she called out as she followed in Jessica’s path, “Murtogg! Mullroy! Could y’all help me with a little something?” 

“You are permitted,” Norrington assured them when they looked to him for confirmation. Nicollette, accompanied by Murtogg and Mullroy, disappeared below deck. When a grim Groves stopped beside him, he spoke in lower tones. “Lieutenant, what did you find out there? Were there any survivors?” 

Groves shook his head. “There had been a young man who was barely lucid when we found him, but he…” He faltered as the memory of Jessica closing the boy’s unseeing eyes and murmuring a quiet prayer for his departing soul surfaced. He forced it back. He had seen death before. How was this time any different? “He passed shortly after we found him.” 

“An unfortunate fate indeed,” Norrington remarked soberly. 

“He only had enough strength to pass along a message. Bear with me, it’s in French.” After a beat, Groves recited the short message, reminding himself to be careful of his pronunciation. _“Ici est le héraut d’avertissement. Savourer mon carnage. Anéantissement vous trouverez, pour le frai de ma sœur prostituée l’imposteur.”_ When Groves finished, he looked at Norrington. “The passenger said it was for Captain Jay.” 

 _Leave me be, Commodore Norrington…_ “What is the translation?” 

 _“Here is the warning herald. Relish my carnage. Annihilation will find you.”_ He forced the closing out of his mouth, mortified over the words and their vulgarity. _“To the spawn of my whore sister, the imposter.”_

 

*              *              *

 

Groves and Norrington approached Norrington’s office to find Nicollette walking out and closing the door behind her. She looked exhausted as if she’d had to bear a heavy burden. Seeing them she placed her hands on her hips as if to say, _Now what do you want?_

 

“We need to speak to the Captain, Miss Smith,” Groves said solemnly.

 

Nicollette shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.”

 

Irritated, Norrington stepped up to her. She looked at him, nearly a foot taller than she, with her admirable fortitude. “You have no authority to bar me from my own office. Stand aside.”

 

Nicollette lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. “Fine, your funeral.” 

Chalking up Nicollette’s statement as more of her gibberish, Norrington strode past her. Or at least he would have if Nicollette’s arm wasn’t in the way. 

“Actually,” she began, “I changed my mind. Can’t let you go in there.” 

Norrington’s eyes flashed with anger but he kept his expression schooled to near-blankness.  “On what grounds?” 

“On the grounds that you gon’ get your ass killed when you step over this threshold.” 

Norrington’s eyebrow arched. “I believe we have established that I can handle Miss Thomas, so your worry is unfounded. Now if you will excuse me.” 

He pushed against her arm…and seconds later stumbled into Groves. Shock mingled with the fury in his eyes before they went flat. “Groves, since she seems to have a blatant disregard for my authority, please escort Miss Smith to the brig. Perhaps she can reevaluate her actions with some alone time.” 

As Groves stepped forward with a look of regret, Nicollette shook her head and stepped back to evade him, still looking at Norrington. “You can’t intimidate me that easily. I ain’t afraid of the dark.” Norrington opened his mouth to speak but she added, “But since you have a desire to dance on the edge, I guess I won’t stand in the way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She rapped her knuckles against the wood three times in quick succession. 

A moment later the door opened, and Mullroy stuck his head out. “You called, Miss Smith?” he asked. She tilted her head in the men’s direction. The redcoat straightened at the sight of Norrington and cleared his throat. “Is there anything I can do, sir?” 

“I would like to speak to Miss Thomas,” Norrington responded. At that moment a rhythmic thudding and panting met his ears. Confusion flitted across his face before alarm overtook it. He pushed past Mullroy and walked into his office. 

Nicollette, with Mullroy and Murtogg’s help, had rigged a sandbag to hang from the ceiling upon which the pirate captain could take out her fury. Judging from the sweat stains on her back and underarms, she had already expelled a great deal of energy. Everyone felt mildly sorry for the defenseless canvas bag. 

“Miss Thomas?” She didn’t acknowledge, just kept punching the sandbag. Norrington gave a short, frustrated sigh. “Captain?” 

The pounding stopped. She stood there, back to them, panting for a few moments as she caught her breath. She finally turned, sweat dotting her forehead. Her knuckles were torn and bleeding, but she appeared to ignore the pain. She regarded him with a detached look in her eyes. She said nothing, merely waited for him to speak. 

Norrington possessed the grace to speak carefully, Groves had to give him that. “I grasp that it has been a difficult evening, but I am hoping I can benefit from some information from you.” 

“What do you want to know, Commodore?” she asked emotionlessly. “My real name? My age? About the bloody cat I had when I was three?” 

Groves felt Nicollette pause to his left. She looked tense, ready to spring at the first sign of trouble. Murtogg and Mullroy glanced at her and tightened their grip on their muskets. 

“Do not make this any harder than it has to be,” Norrington said. 

She darted forward so quickly that they barely caught the movement until she had Norrington’s pistol grasped in her right hand. She pointed the pistol at Norrington, whose eyes lowered to the instrument of death with little change in expression. Nicollette leapt forward but Groves caught her. She strained against Groves’s hold but advanced no more than an inch. Groves’s heart thumped wildly and he struggled to hang on to calm as Murtogg and Mullroy glanced at each other in alarm and raised their muskets. 

“I’m making this as simple as can be,” Jessica stated flatly. “I’ll put this in terms you understand. The stakes are higher now, more than you could have imagined. So I require a guarantee from you.” She flicked a glance over Norrington’s shoulder. “Or it seems we both will end up full of metal.” 

“Lower the pistol, Miss Thomas,” Norrington said in a measured tone. His composure was terrifying. 

But then again, so was hers. “I need you to promise, first.” 

“You are not in any position to ask anything of me.” 

 _“Bullshit!”_ Jessica spat, the first signs of her vehemence showing on her face. “If I was of no use to you, I would already be swinging from a noose so let’s cut out the prevarication. I know my fate, Commodore Norrington. All I am asking is to have the assurance that the person whom we are pursuing has reached her end. In short, I want to see her life fade to nothingness before my very eyes. You can do whatever you see fit with my person after that has happened.” She inclined her head slightly. “What is it going to be, Commodore?” 

“If assurance is all you desire, then it’s granted,” Norrington responded evenly. 

She stared at him for a long moment, summing up his veracity. Finally she lowered the pistol and offered it back to him handle-first. Nicollette nearly collapsed with relief. 

“Murtogg, Mullroy, thank you for your restraint.” Norrington grasped the pistol and took it out of her hand. “I think Commodore Norrington would agree that I should sleep behind bars this evening.” Jessica started to walk past him but the Commodore grabbed her arm. She didn’t look at him. He stared at her profile. 

“You may be satisfied but _I_ didn’t get what I came for, Captain,” he reminded her. “Who is the Captain of the _Sea Dragon_?” 

After a long moment, Jessica spoke. “It used to be a man named Alejandro Garza. Rumor has it that he died and passed ownership to his wife, Delia.” She turned her head and looked at his profile then. “But she likes to call herself Raul Jay.” 

*              *              *

 

The next day, the _Dauntless_ intercepted _Sea Dragon_. 

Norrington lowered the spyglass, eyes filled with resolve. Beside him, Gillette stood, awaiting orders. The two men watched the ship near with a mix of anticipation and dread. After a discreet discussion, the Commodore turned and peered at Nicollette several feet away, who frowned at the scrutiny. 

His gaze lingered upon her long enough for her eyes to narrow. He merely broke the stare to nod to Gillette meaningfully. As the Lieutenant came toward her, she started to shake her head and put her hands up in a gesture of defense. 

Norrington turned away as Nicollette began to swear. She felled a couple of officers—he heard their grunts of pain as they hit the wood—before the sounds from her petite body stopped abruptly. 

Groves came up, slightly outraged. “Was that really necessary?” Norrington turned again, not responding to Groves’s query. Nicollette was unconscious, and no one quite understood how it happened. The men who had converged upon her shared a bemused look. Gillette shook off his shock and indicated the plan was still in place. 

“We have a mission to fulfill, Lieutenant,” the Commodore reminded him. Gillette and the redcoats disappeared with Nicollette and he shifted back toward the sea to stare at the oncoming ship. “Prepare to strike.” Groves could not fight against years of training and obeyed Norrington’s directive. As if Mother Nature wanted to weigh in on the scenario, thunder rumbled in the distance ominously. 

*              *              *

 

When they got to the brig, Captain Jay jumped to her feet. She spied Nicollette’s prone form slung over a redcoat’s shoulder and anger flushed her cheeks. “What in the hell have you done to her?” she demanded. Gillette appeared, keys in hand. She stared at him warily. “If you have hurt her—” 

“We’ll leave the savagery to you, Captain,” Gillette said acridly. He nodded and two of the four men who accompanied him pointed muskets in Jessica’s direction. “Since you seem to enjoy her company, this won’t be a hardship.” He fit the key in the lock and turned. 

“Why aren’t you letting me out?” Jessica demanded. She had not emerged from the cell since she had volunteered to retire there several hours before. “Commodore Norrington and I had an agreement.” Gillette gave her a baleful look as he opened the cell door. She paused thoughtfully then nodded in understanding. “Oh, I see. The esteemed Commodore is done with me is he?” 

“You have fulfilled your purpose,” Gillette told her. “We can handle this part—” 

A faint sound had Jessica going completely still and the color drained out of her face. She peered at him with wide eyes. “You found it. The _Sea Dragon_. It’s here.” She cursed then took a decisive step forward. The movement of the muskets out of the corner of her eye gave her pause. 

“Contrary to popular belief, your life holds no importance in my opinion,” Gillette revealed. “Take that step and you will face serious consequences.” 

Jessica arched an eyebrow. “Lieutenant, you must have learned by now…I don’t take kindly to threats.” 

“I hardly see that as a threat. More as a guarantee.” 

Jessica’s eyes sharpened as if to say, _Oh really?_ Her gaze swept over them as if she were calculating odds. Then her eyes hovered over the prone Nicollette. 

“There is no use fighting,” Gillette reminded her. The redcoats advanced with Nicollette as she was shifted off the shoulder of the one who carried her onto the ground. 

Her eyes shifted back to him. “I’m not the one you need to worry about.” 

Before Gillette could address that assertion, three things happened at once. Something slammed into the _Dauntless_ and sent them all stumbling as the world tilted beneath them. The cell door slipped out of Gillette’s grasp. 

And then Nicollette opened her eyes.

 

*              *              *

 

As She moved ahead of the stormy waters, the _Dauntless_ leveled, allowing the crew to right themselves and take stock of the damage. 

Groves took in the faces of his fellow naval officers. The deluge from the sky had left everyone drenched and cold, leeching the color from their flesh. Well, for some of them. He spied the men who had accompanied Gillette below to the brig to lock Nicollette away with the self-incarcerated Captain Jay, and two of them sported black eyes for their trouble. Nicollette’s petite and curvy frame had belied her physical prowess; she had awakened abruptly and lashed out with an accuracy that a couple had admitted was admirable—if it hadn’t hurt. Luckily for her, Gillette had not told the Commodore yet. Groves suddenly realized they could not underestimate her any longer. 

Nor could they underestimate the Captain, he mused.  As if the single thought had wings, it touched all their minds with varying degrees of speed: _we lived. We escaped certain death and lived_. 

Their meeting with the _Sea Dragon_ had revealed what Jessica had hinted the night before; Delia Garza was the captain of the nefarious vessel. However, they were not prepared for her plan of attack…in the form of her ship’s namesake. The creature—the dragon—had been at least a hundred feet tall, and Delia had complete control over it. _All things are mortal, and can be defeated,_ Norrington had reminded them before ordering them to attack. The glimpse of Elizabeth Swann and Claudia Vargas had stoked his fortitude. When Jessica appeared, with Nicollette in tow, she summed up the situation differently: _we need to retreat! I don’t intend to die here, Commodore Norrington. I refuse to allow my death to be in vain._  

Nicollette had interceded at that moment—exasperated and scared shitless—and proposed a distraction maneuver, one Jessica had used before aboard the _Diamond_. Norrington had agreed to it…but not with the same aim; he had planned to carry out his original plan to go after the pirate ship once the dragon was incapacitated. 

As gunpowder had exploded over their heads and had thrown them to the wood, she had pushed up from the deck and dashed to the helm. Her hands had grasped the wheel, and the sky blotted out the fire with a wall of rain and a surge of wind. Groves knew, no matter what happened to that woman after they completed their mission, he would not forget the sight of Captain Jay standing, feet apart, maneuvering them through the storm. 

Everyone watched as Norrington yanked Jessica away from the helm. The sudden displacement had her stumbling, but when she gained her balance, she glared at him, meeting the fire from his eyes with fire of her own. 

“You had _no right_ to disobey me!” he bellowed, his voice carrying over the roar of the gradually calming sea. 

She stalked up to him and met him so they were toe to toe. “I have the damn right to do whatever I feel is fitting and you had better be lucky it has the side benefit of saving your life!” she shot back.

The resonance of his incrementally heightening tone nearly had Nicollette swooning from hypertension. “You are a prisoner and despite your delusions you’ve no autonomy aboard my vessel! What you did was reckless and unwarranted. _I_ am the Captain of this ship, Miss Thomas. I hardly wear this hat to keep my head warm.” 

“Oh, so you believe you would braved the storm to catch up to the _Sea Dragon_ at the expense of your crew? What makes you think you would have caught them?” 

“Well thanks to you, Miss Thomas, we shall never know!” 

Chest heaving with fury, she reared back and punched him. 

Everyone went still. 

Except Nicollette. After that momentary shock-laden hesitation, she ascended the steps two at a time and planted herself between the Captain and the Commodore. She could see the frigid rage in those green depths as he worked out his jaw—they _all_ could—and for the first time, she looked like she feared him. 

She put her hands up in a gesture of surrender and shook her head slowly, forcing herself not to flinch at the threatening set of his features. Below, Gillette and Groves shared a glance. Gillette even appeared slightly conflicted for once. Unwilling to allow Norrington to go too far, Groves ascended the steps and paused next to the Commodore. 

“Respectfully, sir,” Groves began, “I believe we need—” 

“Lieutenant Gillette,” Norrington interrupted, gaze laid upon Captain Jay, “fetch me a set of irons.” 

Nicollette sent Groves a pleading look. She seemed to have weighted out the option of intervening herself but the risk was too great. He looked at her apologetically as Gillette arrived with a pair of shackles. Groves had expected that Gillette would have looked a little more enthusiastic, but something unreadable lurked in his eyes. The Commodore took a step forward and Jessica shoved Nicollette behind her instinctively. 

The yell from the crow’s nest felt like a boon, fracturing the hostility in that small space. _“Land ho!”_  

Norrington frowned then whirled in astonishment. Clearly without scope he could spy the outline of a stone edifice, and its distinct shape indicated it may be a military fort of some kind. Whipping back toward the female pirate, he grabbed the shackles Gillette held and fastened them onto Jessica’s wrists. The relief she had displayed at spotting land was replaced with shock, then indignation. 

“We will soon be in the presence of guests,” Norrington explained acridly to the query in her eyes. “I hardly need you to act on some misguided sense that you need to be freed.”

Something must have shown in Nicolette’s face as Jessica flicked a glance at her, Gillette, and Groves, for Jessica merely set her jaw in a line instead of lashing out again. “I think you’ll find that your guide and mine are one and the same, Commodore.” 

Norrington shook his head, the picture of a man who had been tried and had enough. “Don’t attempt to use your stilted sense of reason on me. You have overstepped your bounds, and I will make sure you pay dearly for it before this is done.” 

Nicollette gently reached out and grabbed her hand to give it a cautionary squeeze. _Stand down, Chief. Let this one go._ The tendons in Jessica’s neck worked as she swallowed hard, but she remained still and silent. 

Mullroy dashed up at that moment before anyone could speak. “Excuse me, Commodore Norrington—I don’t mean to intrude but I thought you might like to know.” The Lieutenants and the Commodore looked at him with rapt attention. Nicollette peered at the Captain then at the redcoat. “The fort flies British colors, sir.” 

“Some good news,” Norrington remarked coolly. Groves cursed inwardly. _Back to small words again_. “Gillette, stay here. I need to have a look.” 

Gillette murmured a _yes, sir_ as Norrington walked past him. He exhaled deeply, understanding what the Commodore had not said. _Remain here and watch the pirate._ He had never stopped watching.

 

*              *              *

 

The _Dauntless_ docked and Norrington explained he would disembark first. He was not familiar with this fort and had no knowledge who was in charge so he had to proceed with caution. 

They watched as Norrington stepped onto the dock. Two Lieutenants approached him and they had a brief exchange before one ran in the direction of the entrance of the building. When the Lieutenant returned, he had another man in tow. 

The third man strode up in a Royal Navy uniform and immaculate white wig, and judging by the amount of gold lacing he wore, he held high rank. Despite the gust that signaled that the storm would soon reach them, he appeared unruffled and not one thread was out of place. Acting as the most senior officer from the ship, Norrington approached the man. After a quick salute in greeting, the two had an exchange that didn’t reach the others’ ears. 

“Who do you think that is?” Groves wondered. 

Gillette frowned thoughtfully. “Based on the uniform the man’s at least a Commodore, maybe Admiral.” He nodded as Norrington turned toward them and gave a nod. “I suppose that’s our cue.” In a louder tone to the officers, he instructed, “Disembark, gentlemen!” 

The mass exodus was swift but orderly. As officers marched down the gangplank and onto the dock, Gillette turned to Jessica, who had been uncharacteristically silent. He found that he was grateful for the silence, but he wondered what she plotted. She gave him a tight-lipped glare and said nothing, even when he took her by the arm and escorted her down the gangplank. Groves raised an eyebrow at Nicollette, who was quiet as well. 

“Is she up to something?” Groves asked the petite woman in a low tone. 

Tiredly, Nicollette shook her head. “Believe it or not this is the one time the Captain is definitely _not_ up to something.” She slid him a meaningful look. “I wish that meant I could promise that nothing is going to happen, though.” 

Groves’s bemused expression indicated his lack of understanding. “And what do you mean by that?” 

“Oh, give it three minutes, and you’ll see,” Nicollette quipped wryly. 

One of the mysterious Navy officer’s Lieutenants began to show Norrington’s crew inside as he and Commodore Norrington spoke. Groves could tell by the way Norrington addressed the man that he had to be of higher rank. _Admiral,_ Groves mused. He and Nicollette neared, now within earshot of the conversation. 

“Admiral Merrell, I cannot begin to express my gratitude for your generosity,” Norrington was saying. _Ah, I was right,_ Groves thought. “We will not linger long and tax your resources.” 

“Nonsense,” Admiral Merrell said jovially. “You will find that I have resources to accommodate the crew of twenty ships besides. Not to mention it pleases me to converse with a fine Captain such as yourself. So please allow me the pleasure and honor of bestowing my hospitality.” He frowned as Gillette approached with Jessica by the arm. “And what do we have here, Commodore Norrington?” 

The Commodore stepped slightly to the side so Gillette could bring Jessica closer. She stared at the ground, face expressionless. “This is a prisoner currently in our keep, Admiral Merrell. She is a pirate, going by the dubious moniker of Captain Jay. I wonder if you might have somewhere to keep her secure in the meantime.” 

“Yes, we are lacking company in the prison at the…” Suddenly Admiral Merrell trailed in the middle of his statement as bewilderment took over his features. “Commodore, did you say Captain Jay?” 

“Why, yes I…” Norrington watched as Admiral Merrell walked up to Jessica. 

The Admiral’s light green eyes were laden with disbelief as he looked at her from the crown of her head to the tip of her toes. His expression changed into one of disapproval, and his air became slightly paternal, much to everyone’s confusion. 

“Gone and got yourself caught, didn’t we, miss?” the Admiral asked Jessica. “Shackled like the lowly criminal you insist to be.” 

At the sound of his voice, Jessica raised her gaze fractionally until she stared him in the face. Her expression remained devoid of emotion, but something unreadable lurked in her eyes. “Well, I suppose it’s better than…being tied to a flagpole.” 

Norrington nearly gaped at her impertinence while Nicollette fought a smile. Gillette watched Admiral Merrell for his reaction, wide-eyed. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the wind gusted as if heralding a grand event. 

Norrington scrambled to make amends for the slight, mortified that this woman was causing trouble in front of a superior. Groves and Gillette shared in his mortification in varying degrees but understood his rank designated him as the responsible party and therefore they could say nothing. “Admiral Merrell, you have my deepest apologies for this woman. Apparently, she is completely bereft of any sort of manners. If you will point my Lieutenant in the direction of your cells—” 

“Your mother,” Admiral Merrell suddenly boomed, cutting Norrington off and startling the others, “would be _so_ ashamed that you flouted her valuable wisdom and allowed yourself…” He broke off suddenly and stepped up until he and Jessica were toe-to-toe. “…to get caught by the Royal Navy in such a shameful and degrading manner. What do you have to say for yourself that would even be _remotely_ adequate to explain your cavernous shortcomings?” 

Lightning flashed. Eyes over-bright and head at a slight incline, she murmured, “Hello, Charles.” 

 _Hello, Charles?!_  

Thunder rumbled. 

Norrington’s head turned as he stared at her incredulously. 

Admiral Merrell’s face broke out into a gentle, loving smile. “Hello, sweetheart.” He brought her to him sharply into a fierce hug despite her shackled wrists. The three Navy men were struck speechless. Was there no end to this woman’s reach, her trickery? 

When the duo had pulled apart, Norrington, finding his usual poise, remarked coolly, “I was not aware that you were so intimately acquainted with my prisoner, Admiral Merrell.” 

“Well, it’s not like she ever comes to visit unless she is in need,” Merrell responded wryly. To their surprise, Jessica raised her hand to swipe under her eye. Addressing the others, he declared, “We should go inside before the storm carries us all into the sea. I believe everyone would do better with a fresh, hot meal.” Wordlessly, he led Jessica away. Before following in their tracks, Nicollette and Groves walked up to Gillette and Norrington. 

Quite frankly, both Gillette and Groves were worried about the Commodore. Starting with the encounter with Claudia’s captor and her preternatural weapon and culminating in this—and they were not quite certain what _this_ was yet—the day had only served to knock him off-balance. 

Surprisingly, Nicollette was the first one of them to make a move. She held out her elbow to him wordlessly. She looked up at him sidelong as he eyed her arm warily then her expectant features. Gillette raised an eyebrow and wondered what she was doing. 

“What are you doing, Miss Smith?” Norrington inquired. 

“Offering a drowning man a rope,” she quipped. When he hesitated, she clarified, “It won’t mean we’re going steady so calm your wig, Norrington.” His gaze remained unwavering on her and he didn’t move at all. She sighed in frustration. “Okay, okay. Look—I know that the Chief and I haven’t been the best about following your rules and stuff and I am sorry. What happened out there—what has been happening—has roots in stuff that’s been coming on for years.” 

The Commodore’s brow furrowed a touch. “What do you mean by that?” 

She nodded faintly toward the fort. “All I can tell you is that you are in the right place to ask.” 

Norrington’s eyes dropped pensively as he pondered this. The first drops of rain fell from the sky and Nicollette froze for a moment as one fell on the crown of her head. Eyes huge, she grabbed Norrington by the arm without allowing him to make a decision whether he _wanted_ to go with her or not and ran as if she were being chased by Death itself. 

“Miss Smith, what is the meaning—?” 

“Dude, can’t you feel that? I can’t stand the rain! I am tired of being wet, sir!” Her words carried over the gust of wind as she scurried away with Norrington. To his, _Well hurry up then miss_ , she snapped, _“Slow down your legs are longer than mine dammit!”_  

Groves and Gillette shared a glance before going inside after them. 

*              *              *

 

Norrington’s crew, mixed with the occupants of Fort Hamilton, enjoyed a hot meal while the storm settled upon them. Rain pelted the windows, and they could feel drafts of wind across the floor. However, given the alternative, the men from the _Dauntless_ felt gratitude toward Admiral Merrell’s hospitality and relished being on _terra firma_. 

Admiral Merrell hosted the Commodore along with his “guests” in his private dining quarters. In his absence, Norrington’s men obtained information on the generous man. They learned plenty, but no one could explain how he knew the pirate captain or why he seemed so paternal towards her. 

After he swallowed a mouthful of food, Gillette mused, “Do you think they…?” He quirked an eyebrow meaningfully. “Have been intimate?” 

Groves scoffed. “Seriously, Gillette? You heard what his men said, they thought she held more of a daughterly role. Besides, I didn’t think she went for that type.” 

“What type?” 

Groves shrugged. “The type with male genitalia." 

Gillette was so shocked by his response that he promptly choked. Sighing, Groves stood and gave him a couple of whacks. Admiral Merrell entered the room at that moment, Nicollette flanking him. Nicollette had changed out of her wet, tattered clothing and into a dress in a dark blue hue. The men in the room seemed to pause, snapping to attention, but Admiral Merrell waved a hand in a gesture that indicated they should stand down. 

Groves scrambled to sit down as Admiral Merrell neared. He started to pass their table but a better composed Gillette stopped him with a question. 

“Admiral, might I inquire as to where the Commodore is currently, sir?” 

The Admiral looked at him, light eyes slightly troubled. “The Commodore and the Captain are having a very vital discussion in my private dinner quarters.” 

Despite his vow not to react, Gillette felt the blood flow out of his face. Groves nodded minutely, considering what that meant. Groves slid a look toward Gillette, who not blinked in nearly ten seconds. Nicollette squared her shoulders and crossed her arms, ready to combat whatever crossed Gillette’s lips. 

“Lieutenant Gillette, was that not the best course of action?” Admiral Merrell asked, tone carrying a light undertone of censure. 

Gillette inhaled deeply before speaking. “Respectfully, Admiral Merrell, I just believe that leaving Commodore Norrington and the so-called Captain Jay alone in small space would be detrimental to them both.” 

Admiral Merrell _hmmed_ thoughtfully. “I see. Well…” He turned to Nicollette. “It seems they do not like us leaving our dinner companions. To be frank things were getting a bit intense, and I like my meals to be enjoyed without commotion.” 

“I hope that was satisfactory, gentlemen.” Nicollette stared at them innocently as they gaped at her impeccable British accent. The woman in their midst wore Nicollette’s face, but the voice and demeanor were all wrong. “After all…it was _my_ idea.” Her chin lifted fractionally at the end of her statement. 

Gillette’s resolve broke, and the chair scraped the wooden floor loudly as he rose abruptly to his feet. Ignoring Admiral Merrell, he stepped up to the petite young woman, brown eyes flashing. “What misconception are you operating under, miss? That woman you admire is a criminal. She has slain innocents and stolen and spit on the very foundation of the law that affords us order and security. She deserves none of your admiration, nor does she deserve the mercy of my Commodore or anyone who sails under a British flag.” 

“What misconception?” Nicollette shot back, her diction clipped. “Are you blind, Lieutenant? Has staring at the sea for most of your adult life killed your ability to reason? If you would deign to climb off your bleeding high horse perhaps you could learn something about _that woman_ I admire—as Commodore Norrington is right this very moment.” 

Indignation filled Gillette’s eyes. “All he needs to know is that her loyalty is to herself and herself only. Anything other than that is meaningless.” 

Nicollette shook her head. “I pity you, Gillette. You’ll believe that up to the end, won’t you?” 

“Yes I will,” Gillette challenged, “because nothing will make me believe otherwise.” 

Groves stood up then, wanting to diffuse the tension between the two before the exchange escalated. He stepped in between the mysterious Nicollette and the angry Gillette, back to Nicollette. He murmured to Gillette to sit down. Glaring at Nicollette, Gillette retook his seat. She stared back defiantly. 

Before anyone could speak, a young man, younger than Nicollette, rushed up to the silent Admiral. Based on his completely unadorned uniform, the Lieutenants guessed he was a midshipman. The blond man stopped abruptly and saluted the older man. Admiral Merrell shifted toward him and return the salute. 

“Yes, Midshipman?” 

The young blond sucked in a breath. “Sir. I found those notes you requested.” He revealed a leather bound book. “There seems to be very little specifics on the subject, but it is indicated that perhaps a source could be utilized.” 

Admiral Merrell took the book with a bit of disappointment, and Groves frowned, catching the undercurrent of the conversation. “Is there something going on?” he inquired. 

“Your Commodore told me about the mysterious being that Captain of the _Sea Dragon_ conjured,” Admiral Merrell explained. “The instance sounded vaguely familiar, so I sent one of my officers to search for notes.” 

“May I?” Admiral Merrell handed Groves the book. Gillette remained silent, noting that Nicollette had shifted behind Groves’s chair so she could read over his shoulder. The young midshipman stepped forward and guided them to the correct page. The three of them scanned the page silently. Groves frowned and pointed at a strange phrase. “It says to understand you have to find loneliness given age. _Loneliness given age?_ What is that?” 

Admiral Merrell sighed. “I thought perhaps the person had misspoken, and I have tried every combination of the phrase since to no avail.” 

Brows furrowed, Nicollette furiously searched the ground. She got down on her hands and knees despite the skirt she wore. The Midshipman jumped out of the way as she crawled forward a few feet. The men stared at her back in confusion. 

“Miss Smith—?” Admiral Merrell began. 

She straightened abruptly, a rock in her hand. “Result!” she said in a stage whisper. She scanned the room for a surface that would suit, and without a word, she climbed to her feet and strode to a wall on the far side of the room. The men shared glances, then followed. Groves still held the book. 

The four men stood behind Nicollette as she wrote the phrase on the stone with the rock. Admiral Merrell pursed his lips in disapproval. “You are ruining my wall, young lady.” 

“All for a good cause, sir,” Nicollette reminded him distractedly. She stepped back at and took in her handiwork. “Obviously it’s a code of some kind. Or an anagram.” 

Seeing a pattern in the letters, Gillette stepped forward. He hovered at Nicollette’s elbow. “If I may?” Mouth pursed, she dropped the rock in his palm but said nothing. Gillette approached the wall and quietly wrote out the word _invasion_. The others took in the word grimly. Nicollette raised an eyebrow as if to say, _I see you, Gillette—I see you, sir._  

“That is a very good start, Lieutenant,” Admiral Merrell said, “but that leaves us with other letters.” 

“Are we entirely sure it is a word, sir?” the midshipman asked. 

“We aren’t sure of anything at present,” Admiral Merrell reminded him. He stepped forward, accepting the rock from Gillette. “Perhaps I will have a try.” 

The men passed the rock back and forth as they all took a turn. Nicollette stood back thoughtfully, watching. As the Lieutenants, Admiral Merrell and the nameless midshipman postulated on what could be the answer, the swish of skirts broke though all conversation. The men of Fort Hamilton, having learned the identity of their female guest, watched her warily as she strode through the room. The wet and tattered clothing she wore aboard the _Dauntless_ had been discarded. The pale orange petticoat peeking out from under the gown she wore acted like a beacon, drawing everyone’s attention. With her hair pulled back, her red eyes and determined expression incited curiosity. Several steps behind, the Commodore entered as well, his expression carefully blank. 

She walked up to the midshipman, who held the rock. She inclined her head inquisitively and held out a hand. Silently he placed the rock in her palm and she nodded in thanks. She passed him, her skirts brushing against his leg, and walked up to the wall. She stared at it, taking in all the combinations. 

After a humming moment, she crossed out _Loneliness given age_ and wrote two words above it: _Evangeline Gosselin_. 

The men stared at the name, then at Jessica’s back. She had the rock in a tight fist. The knuckles on her right hand nearly broke through her skin as she tightened her fingers. The others spied the tension in her shoulders. 

“Who is Evangeline Gosselin?” the midshipman inquired. 

No one spoke. Nicollette walked up to Jessica and pried the rock from her grasp. Nicollette’s lips tightened when she spied the blood. “Captain?” Nicollette prompted softly. 

After a moment, Jessica turned. She seemed paler than she had before. Reluctantly Gillette decided she appeared genuinely drained. She squared her shoulders as if bracing herself for attack. She held her hand palm up and close to her body. 

“Catalina?” Admiral Merrell pressed, voice barely discernible over the din. 

When she raised her eyes, holding all of their gazes for a heartbeat, some of her usual insolence lingered there. She stared straight ahead at Commodore Norrington when she spoke. 

“Evangeline Gosselin had been a friend of Claudia’s grandmother Marisol Vargas,” she finally said. 

“Had been?” Groves queried. 

She flicked a glance at him before looking back at Norrington. Gillette stepped to the Commodore’s left, feeling distrust creeping into his system. He sensed something in the air between his superior officer and the dark-haired pirate, something he did not like. “Marisol Vargas died thirteen years ago.” 

Commodore Norrington finally spoke, voice too cool to be normal. “And where is Ms. Gosselin at present?” 

Jessica merely gazed at him. She broke the stare by looking down at her hand. Closing her fingers over her bloody palm, she excused herself and walked out of the room. As she passed Norrington and Gillette, the latter noticed the taller man glance in her direction as she walked away then looked down. 

“Commodore?” He looked at Admiral Merrell as the older man addressed him. “To answer your query, Mademoiselle Gosselin generally lives in Toulouse…except for this time of the year when she journeys to Exeter.” At Norrington’s questioning look, he clarified, “To visit her husband and son—the men she outlived.” 

Groves asked, “So are we going to see her?” 

Gillette shook his head. “The _Dauntless_ would never make it that far.” He looked at Norrington, who appeared to be turning things over in his mind. “We should wait until the _Dauntless_ is repaired to make the voyage.” 

“No.” Nicollette’s spoke, voice unnaturally solemn much to everyone’s shock. Norrington appeared especially stricken. “We need to go immediately. I doubt that it will be simple to track down Mademoiselle Gosselin when she returns to France considering the current state of things, and we have little time to waste.” To Admiral Merrell, she inquired, “Admiral? Might you have a vessel we could borrow?” 

Admiral Merrell gaped. “Young lady, are you _mad_?” 

Nicollette tapped her chin and pursed her lips thoughtfully. After a few seconds, she responded, “Nope. Merely resourceful. So how is this done? Do we sign it out like a library book or are you duty-bound to come with us?” 

Norrington decided it would be a good time to intervene. “Miss Smith, we cannot just borrow another captain’s ship—” 

“And you suggest we do _what_ , exactly?” Nicollette demanded hands on hips as she whirled on him. She clapped her hands together in mock excitement. “Oh, _I_ know! We’ll _wait_.” She made a grand gesture at the word _wait_ that had Norrington’s glare deepening. “We will _sit here_ while in the meantime, Elizabeth and Claudia edge closer and closer to the moment that foul bitch ends their lives.” 

Grief flashed in the Commodore’s eyes. “I am aware of what is at stake, Miss Smith.” 

“So act like it!” she exclaimed. _“Do something!”_  

Gillette, angry that she antagonized his superior in such an impertinent manner, stalked up to the petite woman. “Stop with your instigating and your provoking right now—” He reached out to grab her— 

—But a bandaged hand caught his wrist and held it so firmly he feared it would break. 

At that moment a quiet voice filled the space and Gillette did a double-take. As if she had appeared out of thin air, Jessica stood in between him and Nicollette. Something different lingered in her eyes. He had seen a similar coolness in the Commodore, but this…was a deeper cold, frigid. Coupled with the intent to harm. Fear snaked up his spine before he could squelch it. 

“When I was fifteen, a man made the mistake of placing his hands upon a woman in front of me in a situation very much like this one,” she explained. She paused, unblinking. “Lieutenant Gillette, would you like to meet that imprudent gentleman? Because I assure you, if you ever place your hands on Nicollette Smith, you will— _very promptly_.” 

She allowed her meaning to hover in the air. Norrington said reproachfully, “It is not your privilege to mete out punishment, Miss Thomas.” 

“I’m higher in rank than he is, and it’s _Captain_ to you, Commodore, for I didn’t learn navigation to be dismissed like an empty-headed simpleton,” Jessica snapped heatedly, nearly throwing Gillette’s wrist back at him. Her fierceness had returned. “Not to mention, Nicollette is right. We’re wasting time. Evangeline Gosselin is only in Exeter for seven days, and she will leave Toulouse within the next couple of weeks. Provided we don’t run into any problems, if we leave at dawn, we might catch her before she leaves.” 

She turned to Admiral Merrell who watched her with an inscrutable expression. At the pleading look in her eyes, he reminded her, “Sweetheart, you’re a prisoner of the Crown. It’s technically illegal to aid you.” 

“So we obey a law to be complicit in the endangerment of another life?” Tears sprang into her eyes. When her voice came out, they could barely hear her. “If you won’t for me, do it for her. For _Irina_.” 

Deep sorrow crossed Admiral Merrell’s features. The midshipman peered at the Admiral in amazement, as if the name was a grand revelation, a clue to a question left unanswered for years. All at once the others spied the resemblance between the young man and the quiet leader. 

It was confirmed when the midshipman began softly, “Father…sir—” 

Admiral Merrell swallowed hard. “Please, don’t. I will not speak on the subject.” He looked to Jessica with the anguish alive on his face. He heaved a long sigh as the heaviness of implication settled upon him. He could not talk her out of this, nor could he allow her to go forward without his assistance. The familiar pang of déjà vu made his heart constrict. 

After a weighty moment, he said to Commodore Norrington in a flat tone, “Take the _Aphrodite_. She should suit your needs. We can discuss the details, I just…need a few moments.” 

With that statement, the Admiral rounded the Captain and strode out of the room. Jessica stood in place for a couple of minutes looking at the ground. She appeared frozen, barely breathing. Nicollette, hating the silence, suggested mildly, “Perhaps we need to retire. I believe we’ve been through enough upheaval for one evening.” 

The midshipman, the Admiral’s son, nodded. “Yes, miss, I will take you to your room.” 

The women were escorted out, Nicollette wrapping her arm around Jessica’s waist, leaving Norrington and the two Lieutenants. Groves broke the silence. “Sir, what happened at dinner? Something strange is going on. I believe Gillette would agree.” 

“Strange is an understatement,” Gillette muttered irritably. 

“I needed to know more about our enemy,” Norrington explained, “so Admiral Merrell filled in some of the blanks.” He glanced at the exit. The ghosts of the Admiral and the Captain’s discontent lingered in the air with a sour tinge. “The predicament is not as straightforward as I believed.” 

“In what manner?” Gillette wanted to know. 

Norrington raised his eyes to Gillette. “It seems that Claudia Vargas and Captain Jay…are sisters.” 

Gillette and Groves both stiffened feature by feature. _You’re safe now, Miss Vargas. I was never in any danger._ “They’re…family?” Groves asked. He shook his head. “No wonder she’s been acting abnormal since. Witnessing your sister mistreated by family has to be doubly unsettling. Not to mention, I get the feeling she was trying to conceal the familial links.” 

“Does Lord Beckett know that his fiancée is related to a pirate?” Gillette inquired. Norrington nodded. He suddenly appeared very weary as if the knowledge sat heavily upon him. 

Groves remarked, “That makes his relationship with Miss Vargas very complicated.” _I was never in any danger._ “I hate to say it, but I understand Captain Jay a bit more now. No wonder she took Claudia from us.” 

“Oh come now!” Gillette cried. “Not you too. That woman is going to have us at her feet if we let her. We cannot forget what she is, not for one moment.” He looked to the Commodore for support. “Please tell me you do not agree with him, sir.” 

Norrington looked away and turned toward the door. He did nothing to affirm Gillette’s assertion. “Admiral Merrell is waiting for us,” he reminded them, deftly avoiding the subject as he strode out of the room.

*              *              *

 

At dawn, Gillette and Norrington stood at the dock watching as the crew boarded the _HMS Golden Aphrodite_. 

Gillette had slept fitfully the night before, and judging from the shadows under his eyes, Commodore Norrington could say the same. After a brief meeting with a solemn Admiral Merrell, it had been decided that half of Norrington’s crew would remain at Fort Hamilton while repairs finished on the _Dauntless_. Groves and Gillette would remain to oversee while Captain Jay and Nicollette would accompany Norrington to Exeter aboard the _Aphrodite_ with Admiral Merrell and the remaining part of the _Dauntless_ crew. 

“Sir?” Norrington turned his head in Gillette’s direction while he looked forward at the ship. “I just want to start off by saying that…I apologize for my behavior last night. I…should not have lost my composure. Captain Jay was correct in defending Miss Smith.” He spied the shock in Norrington’s eyes when he looked at him. “However, that doesn’t mean that I trust Captain Jay. I am not sure what she is planning, and I fear that she may try to deceive you.” 

Norrington looked away as he considered this. “A part of me agrees with that sentiment, Lieutenant.” 

“And the other part of you, sir?” 

“The other part of me is…bemused,” Norrington revealed. At Gillette’s inquisitive look, he continued. “When I first encountered Captain Jay, I believed I knew exactly what I battled against. And every moment since has served to prove me as a worse judge of character than I previously imagined. That woman…” He trailed off as he settled on the right words. When he couldn’t, he resumed in a different manner. “Admiral Merrell explained that the problem is I am regarding Jessica Thomas in strict terms of black and white when…it’s not possible.” 

“It should be,” Gillette insisted. “She is a bad person for the things she has done and she should be punished.” Norrington’s eyes drifted downward as if he felt ashamed that he did not completely agree. “We should never lose sight of that, Commodore. No matter what our hearts feel and our minds ascertain, the Law reigns supreme over everything. And if no one holds Captain Jay to that standard then she will run rampant. It matters not what motivation she has. Who knows what else she will destroy?” 

The sound of Admiral Merrell’s voice from several yards away caught their attention. They watched as he strode up with the woman in question who was back in her normal attire. “Surprisingly less than we believe, if she had her way.” Gillette watched as she neared Jessica caught Norrington’s eye. The look that passed between them was fraught with hidden meaning. The glance lingered but she turned away first as she went up the gangplank. 

“Sir,” Gillette said. When he didn’t respond, Gillette said more forcefully, “James.” Norrington gazed at him in disbelief. “Please stay as far away from her as you can.” 

“That will be extremely difficult to accomplish, Gillette.” 

Aboard the _HMS Golden Aphrodite_ , Captain Jay turned toward them as the Admiral made his final inspection. Her face held no expression, so still that it appeared carved from stone. Her hair fluttered in the wind and left her face exposed, frameless.  She hooked her thumbs on her belt and her coat shifted back, revealing the handle of the pistol Admiral Merrell insisted she have. Suddenly her gaze sharpened upon Norrington. Emotion filled her eyes, but hadn’t been what Gillette had expected. 

It was fear. 

“Why?” 

Norrington looked at him. He appeared grim, resigned. Before he ascended the gangplank himself and abruptly ended the exchange, he made one admission that inspired both dread and confidence within his Lieutenant. The tone with which they were delivered was reassuring, but the words themselves… Gillette found himself wondering what he honestly meant and feared he would not be comfortable with the truth. 

“I can’t let her out of my sight.”

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Quandary

**7.0** – _Quandary_

 

After the captain of the Bloody Diamond had bargained her life away for the well-being of her crew, the prison at Fort Charles became her home. 

When they reached Port Royal in battered states aboard the Interceptor, Commodore Norrington escorted Captain Jay down to the refurbished cell personally. Much of the events that led to Elizabeth and Claudia’s abduction and Cutler Beckett’s demise were shrouded in mystery and trumped up to preternatural detail. By the time the royal decision had reached the island, Norrington couldn’t count how many versions of the true events he had heard. 

Governor Swann informed them when they returned that Jessica’s execution was stayed pending the recent events. He did not elaborate what force had caused these events, and speculation surfaced placing him the arbiter of this turn. Claudia, with her inheritance from her mother’s death and earnings from her musical ventures, rented a house in Port Royal and fired off a volley of fierce and emotional letters imploring anyone to spare her sister’s life. One of those had been to Admiral Merrell whose son had contacts close to the King’s ear. Jessica accepted her fate stoically. For her, her life would not end in vain. Her sisters were free. Cutler Beckett was dead. She could die satisfied. 

In the middle of the deliberation over Captain Jay’s fate Norrington found himself at an impasse. Here was this offender of the law, a pirate, who by law deserved nothing less than hanging. However, from another perspective, this offender was a woman who did not acquire this life nonchalantly but to shield her sisters. The non-existent protection she was entitled to receive from males resulted in her having to resolve problems on her own. While Commodore Norrington received accolades for catching the notorious criminal, his sense of chivalry balked at the slight. 

His resolve broke completely when Claudia stormed into his office a month after their return. 

She was impeccably attired as usual. Her pale blue dress accentuated her small frame and heightened the color of her eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face and left to freely fall down her back. Ever since they had docked after her abduction, she emanated a newfound fierceness that invoked a bit a fear. It was in stark contrast to her sister’s lethargy, which to her was unsettling. 

“Miss Vargas,” Norrington said blandly in way of greeting. 

“When do we receive word on my sister’s fate?” Claudia demanded without preamble. 

Having been in the middle of paperwork, Norrington merely laid down his quill and raised an eyebrow at her. “These things take time, Miss Vargas. I suggest that you practice some patience and enjoy your sister’s company while you still can.” 

Claudia’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Commodore Norrington, are you so mired in your rules and regulations that you fail to see what happened to my sister? She was trying to protect us.” 

Norrington leveled a serious gaze upon her. “Your sister resorted to a life of piracy and she must suffer the consequences. Had she sought assistance—” 

“Assistance? You mean assistance from a man.” Claudia laughed sardonically and the sound grated. “Not all men in this world possess a moral compass as strict as yours. Cutler Beckett was the embodiment of that reality, and you witnessed his treachery. It nearly ended my life, Commodore. So forgive me if I seem dubious of the concept.” She stepped forward and laid a fist heavily on his desktop, causing his inkwell to tremble. “You need to do something, and you need to do something now.” 

At this moment he rose from his chair, and Claudia had to raise her head to stare at him. The movement hardly changed dynamics overmuch. The glint of defiance still glittered Claudia’s eye. “I am not at your command, Miss Vargas, so please refrain from ordering me about.” 

“You serve others, Commodore Norrington,” Claudia countered. “Including myself and my sister. You are at our command.” 

Fleetingly he thought of the night at Fort Hamilton when he met Admiral Merrell, and he had recounted Jessica’s story much to her chagrin. When he had heard how her father had left her with his debts, how her younger brother had been killed leaving his sisters powerless, he had uttered the first thing that had occurred to him: ‘Why didn’t you seek help?’ 

“I will act as my conscience dictates, Miss Vargas,” Norrington promised, his voice firm. “I cannot promise anything more.” 

“Then I hope your conscience recognizes the injustice,” Claudia said. 

“Injustice that your sister resorted to a life of piracy?” 

Claudia made a violently impatient gesture and he feared that she would knock something over—himself included. “Pirate is but a word, Commodore. A string of letters put together. It is you who gives it so much permanence. Please do not condemn my sister for a word.” 

“Words are all we have to separate ourselves from beasts,” Norrington shot back. “Your sister chose her life. She could have solved her problems in any manner of ways.” 

Claudia shook her head in consternation. “That time you spent with her, searching for me and Elizabeth. When she saved your life and the lives of your crewmen. Did you learn nothing?” 

He remembered the moment as if it played out right in front of him. Above and around them a storm had raged, sending bursts of illumination into the room at frequent intervals. Her eyes had sparkled with fury, grief, and vulnerability, her feminine garb adding to the effect. They hadn’t noticed that the Admiral and Nicollette had left them alone to quarrel in relative private. _“Help? And who would have helped me, Commodore? Why would I have gone to a man to save me from another man’s perfidy?”_

_“Because it’s the right thing to do!”_

_“Right?! What the hell do you know about right? Right would have been my father not using me as a pawn. Right would have been Cutler Beckett not taking advantage of me. Right would have been my mother not dying a wasteful death. And the moment I do something that feels right, everyone tells me it’s wrong because I circumvented their flawed rules. Where the hell do I get any credit for taking matters into my own hands?”_

_The idea had tugged at something inside of him, and his lips had formed words before he could stop them. “If you had asked the right man, Jessica, he would have helped you.”_

_Eyes wide and tearful with an implication she hadn’t wanted to explore, she demanded, “And who would have been the right man?”_  

That question echoed in his head, a shot fired in an empty, cavernous room. 

Claudia’s voice, showing her confusion, brought him back to the present. “Commodore Norrington?” 

He blinked the memory out of his vision. The dark-haired woman in his midst knew something had shifted, but she could not discern what or its meaning. She stepped back and allowed for him to answer her query. 

When he finally spoke, he seemed to have found his usual poise. “As I stated previously, I will act as my conscience dictates.” His tone held an air of dismissal. “Good day, Miss Vargas.” 

With those words, he lowered himself into his seat as if the past several minutes hadn’t happened. Claudia stood over him and said nothing. After a long moment, she turned and drifted out slowly in direct contrast with how she entered. She brushed past Gillette, who frowned at the woman’s back as she walked away. 

He must have hesitated too long for Norrington boomed, “Report, Lieutenant” and had Gillette turning back to him. 

“Yes, sir,” he said, then gave his report. Claudia and her sister escaped mention because, while he wouldn’t say it aloud, Gillette sensed that Claudia’s visit had troubled the Commodore—and perhaps that wasn’t a horrible turn of events. 

*              *              *

 

Meanwhile, down below in the prison, the woman in question received a visitor. 

Other than Claudia, Gretchen and Samantha, Jessica had been largely left alone. She received meals twice a day but no one engaged her other than that giving of food. From the snatches of outside life she had gleaned from her few visitors, Port Royal awaited her execution. Life for them inched along, while for her it hung in abeyance. 

She regarded the young woman in the dark cloak with bemusement. The princess of the town gracing her with her exalted presence threatened to upset the delicate balance that she maintained to uphold her sanity. But she chose to cling to her curiosity instead, seeing no apparent reason for Elizabeth Swann to be visiting her. 

Jessica knew that Elizabeth and Claudia had become friends and bonded over their mutual danger. She also knew that Elizabeth had tried to protect Claudia while Delia had them in her clutches. For that she had Jessica’s respect and gratitude. However, despite their mutual caring for Claudia, Jessica felt the two women possessed nothing in common, and that fact made her slightly suspicious. 

Jessica did not stand, but she did turn toward the younger woman. “I never expected to see you here amidst these bars,” she remarked, voice devoid of emotion. 

Elizabeth’s expression held a bit of sadness, which bemused Jessica even more. “I never expected to see you here either.” 

Jessica’s eyebrow quirked. “I did not know that you would care about my predicament, Miss Swann.” 

Elizabeth shifted her feet, appearing tentative. Jessica observed the movement and wondered where this conversation headed. Her instincts told her that she wouldn’t like the turn. 

“The fact of the matter is that I...” Elizabeth paused, gathering her nerve. Jessica watched patiently. “I feel that what is happening to you is unwarranted. And I don’t understand why you’re not fighting against it.” 

Jessica chuckled sardonically as her chest tightened. The naïve notion of her fighting, picking up a weapon and testing her wits scored her deep. A part of her agreed but she squashed that tiny blossom before it grew. “Oh Miss Swann, you have no idea what I have done to deserve my imprisonment.” 

Elizabeth shook her head. “You saved our lives out there. Whatever you did—” 

“The ends do not justify the means,” Jessica interrupted sharply. “If you’re looking for a triumphant turn of events, please look elsewhere.” 

Elizabeth stepped forward, hand on the bars. “If only you could have seen yourself...” She trailed off and placed her other hand on the bars. “My intention right now is to convince you to see your life as others do. I do not mean to cause you any grief.” 

“What others?” Jessica asked. “You mean the humble masses who would love to see me hanging from a rope?” 

“You could change their minds,” Elizabeth insisted. “But the people to whom I am referring witnessed what I had witnessed. I am not alone in my estimation of you, Captain Jay.” 

“Thank you for holding me in such high esteem,” Jessica said, voice flat. “Now if you would please obey my wishes and leave me in peace to die—” 

“There is little chance that you are truly in peace,” Elizabeth broke in, causing Jessica to blink at her in astonishment. “You are too strong, too smart. You have done things that the men in this town have only dreamed of doing. You have wisdom that the men in this town only wish they possess.” 

“Men will parade foolishness in our faces and force us to take it as gospel even if that’s all they own,” Jessica remarked. “They do not admire me for my experience--they condemn me for it and steal whatever they can to pass along as theirs.” 

Elizabeth lowered her head slightly until her forehead almost touched the bars. When she spoke, her voice was gentler. “Father is afraid that if they put you to death that he will lose me.” She raised her gaze to the stoic woman in her midst. “There is some part of me that understands his fear, but I find myself compelled to assist in saving your life because there will be a part of me lost if I don’t. There will be a part lost of us all.” 

Elizabeth marveled at Jessica’s resolve. She stared at Elizabeth placidly as if they discussed a difference of opinion over dessert that evening. “Your father loves you and would do anything to protect you. Take solace in that fact because there are fathers out there who see a daughter as the biggest punishment Heaven could send them.” 

“I am fully aware of my luck in that regard,” Elizabeth advised her. “And I understand that your own father was a selfish bastard who left an empty legacy to his daughters, Claudia won’t shut up about it.” Jessica chuckled dryly at that. “But that hardly means you get to demean your worth and accept this fate. You are better than this.” 

Jessica stared at her. “Have you entertained the thought that perhaps I am not?” 

“I refuse because I know better. You need to fight, Captain Jay. Make yourself free.” 

“I cannot fight, Miss Swann!” Jessica exclaimed in a voice that was thick with emotion. “If I fight against this now, it will ruin everything. We have come so far—they have come so far. They’re getting everything that they wanted. Leave it be.” 

“Who is getting what they want?” Elizabeth demanded. “Claudia can barely function without writing a letter so someone pleading for your life. When she’s not scribbling she’s trying to keep Samantha from knocking people about and Gretchen from falling into a pit of her own despair. And don’t get me started on the Commodore.” 

The Commodore. That statement stole the breath from Jessica’s lungs. She averted her eyes as tears blurred her vision. “And what about him?” Jessica choked out. “He benefits the most from this so I hardly see how he could be distraught. Not to mention he sees me as a pirate, a non-person. There would be little chance of him having feelings for me.” 

Elizabeth was shrewd enough to discern the change in her tone. She had witnessed Norrington’s reaction when Jessica nearly died banishing her aunt’s creation; others took his determination to preserve Jessica’s life as a display of loyalty to his orders--he had been ordered to bring her back alive, but Elizabeth, even in the midst of the excitement and relief of being reunited with Will, had noticed the subtle panic in his eyes. Now Norrington was more rigid than usual and kept Jessica out of sight. Jessica possessed enough intelligence to notice, and hurt radiated through her words. 

“The Commodore is very confused by what should be a simple matter,” Elizabeth explained. “He possesses more empathy than you believe he does. Please do not condemn him for his outward demeanor.” 

“Just like he has done to me?” 

“What do you expect him to do? Utterly defy everything he knows? Even if he did, you wouldn’t want him to so.” 

The veracity of the statement sent a shockwave through Jessica and she nearly buckled. Elizabeth, regrettably, was correct; as romantic as the notion would have been, Commodore Norrington letting her escape had no practical purpose. Jessica would be looking over her shoulder for him for the rest of her life, and he would most likely suffer ridicule for allowing for her to evade his clutches. She cared for him. She did not want that to happen. 

The whole scenario made Elizabeth want to pound her head against stone. 

“This is truly the best set of circumstances for all involved,” Jessica remarked so softly that Elizabeth barely heard her. 

Elizabeth looked at her, sadness descending upon her features. “I don’t agree.” 

Jessica said the only thing left to say. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” She stepped closer and placed her hand on the younger woman’s curled fingers. “I am sorry if I have disappointed you. I...” She swallowed, trying to keep the overflow of saliva from making her choke. “Please take care of...them. All of them. Even...” 

She turned her palm upward. Their fingers brushed, their gazes locked. “Him the most.” 

Realizing that Jessica was not going to budge, that perhaps this was the end, Elizabeth stood there a moment longer before drifting away wordlessly. When Elizabeth was out of sight, she slumped to her knees, weeping over reopened wounds. And when the tears had run their course, she silently pushed the emotions away until she was numb again.

 

*              *              *

 

The month stretched into nearly two. Fort Charles had been almost completely repaired from the previous invasion from the crew of the Sea Dragon, and Commodore Norrington oversaw the recruitment of more officers. The formal announcement of Elizabeth’s engagement overshadowed the predicament of the imprisoned Captain Jay. The citizens of Port Royal chattered excitedly about the wedding plans, while Norrington hid his feelings behind a mask. 

He was shrewd enough to understand he was being watched, too. 

He spent his days at the fort preparing the new recruits and overseeing repairs on the Dauntless, hiding behind the veneer of a man with too much on his shoulders. When he allowed himself to rest, his dreams were filled with a dark-haired woman. Her presence unnerved him. He knew who she was instinctively but didn’t and couldn’t have the evidence to confirm. 

Their recent meetings were less whimsical than their first. She usually appeared staring out his window or sitting in a chair, never too close. After his conversation with Claudia however, when she appeared, she was perched at the end of his bed, at his feet. Her long hair was unbound and uncovered, giving her the illusion of youth. She emanated sorrow and as he sat up—he clearly resided in the dream state and ignored the warmth and permanence of her hip next to his right foot—he saw the tear stains darkening her skirt. 

He said nothing at first, knowing what plagued her. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed. 

She wiped at her tears. Her free hand held a sheet of parchment. His stomach clenched when he realized what it was. 

It was Jessica’s death warrant, unsigned. 

“I should have seen it coming,” she murmured, looking at Jessica’s offenses listed in ink. “From the moment she came into this world, she was determined to live her own way. I never got a chance to teach her the right course...” 

He reached over and took the warrant. She raised her eyes, and the knot in his stomach tightened. His reason attempted to remind him that he spoke to a ghost but failed. “Every step that she took was her own. You cannot blame yourself for things that are out of your control.” 

She shook her head. “When you have children, I will make sure you remember that sentiment, Commodore.” The certainty in her voice gave him pause, but she continued. “Yes, she made her own path, and yes she is her own person, but I set her on this course.” She placed a hand on his leg and he nearly jumped out of his own skin. This was supposed to be a dream. She wasn’t supposed to be solid. This wasn’t supposed to feel so real. “You have to intervene.” 

“I cannot,” he argued. “I must uphold the law.” 

“And so you will,” she countered. “But this once. Just this once. Let it go.” 

He hopped out of bed, relieved to be free of the eerie weight of her hand on his calf. “Do you know what will happen if I do what you have requested of me? I refuse to ignore the reprehensible things she has done just because of her situation. She is not any more remarkable than the other pirates I have had hung.” 

“No,” she shot back fiercely, standing. In another life, she would have been an excellent lawyer. “I am disappointed that you would look at everything so strictly in absolutes. Do you know why you are an agent of the law? Do you know why you have been entrusted to carry it through to completion? Because you are intelligent man, and you understand right from wrong. My daughter may not possess the purest heart but she does have one.” She stood and crossed her arms over her chest, reminding him instantly of her eldest. “You are smarting over the fact that Jack Sparrow lingers out of your grasp.” 

“This has absolutely nothing to do with Jack Sparrow,” he snapped. Good thing this was only a dream or he would have awoken everyone in town. “The fact that your daughter was so closely aligned with that pirate is immaterial. It doesn’t detract from her own offenses. I plan to pursue him in due time.” 

“Yet you allowed for him to escape. And my daughter still lives.” Something flickered his face at the revelation. “I sense a growing trend here. Which tells me one thing, Commodore Norrington.” She paused for effect. “You have no intention of putting either one of them to death.” 

He froze. Her words echoed the small voice inside of him that had been whispering objections ever since they had docked. When he whirled, her eyes peered at him unwaveringly. Yes, this was the woman who had borne Jessica Thomas. No other person could manage that intense stare. Angrily he crossed the room and picked up the death warrant he had laid aside. Fear leaped into her eyes. 

“I will sign this warrant right this very moment just to show you how wrong you are,” he warned her. 

Her eyes flickered toward the paper. “You can’t do it, James,” she told him softly. 

He glared at her for her perception. “Do not pretend that you have any knowledge of what I am capable.” He turned to his desk and picked up his quill. As he slapped the paper onto the surface, she stepped forward and snatched it up, causing his inkwell to spill. Quicker than he could blink she had it balled in her fist. 

He pressed his lips together as she tossed it into the fire. For a while, the burning logs made the only sound in the room. 

“It can be written again,” he reminded her. “You are only delaying the inevitable demise of your daughter and your presence here is doing nothing but causing me undue aggravation which will not endear me to show her any mercy. So if you would please, Madame.” 

She eyed him with an inscrutable expression for a long, intense moment. “If you allow for some executioner to slip a noose around Jessica’s neck, she will not be the only person you’ll be putting to death.” 

He tried to ignore the veracity of her words. “Her siblings will surmount their grief, in time.” 

She tilted her head sadly. “Not my daughters, James. You are reluctant to admit it, but you know precisely who I mean.” 

When he hastily emerged from the dream in his darkened and chilly bedroom, he almost expected to find her there. But he was alone. You know precisely who I mean. His quickened breath filled the stillness, and as he fought to calm himself, he noticed a dripping sound. His senses sharpened tenfold; he scanned the room, noting no rain fell outside, so it couldn’t have been the roof— 

At that moment he caught sight of his desktop. He had been reviewing documents before bed, so papers were strewn across the wood. That however did not bother him. What he noticed next had his blood going cold. 

The inkwell laid on its side, its contents staining his floor. Drip, drip. 

He found with that discovery he could not sleep. So he righted the inkwell, cleaned up the spill, and lit the lamp he used whenever he worked. You know precisely who I mean. He found a blank page and composed his thoughts. 

*              *              *

 

The next day came and passed with little ceremony. His melancholy specter avoided his dreams, leaving his slumber in darkness. He glumly assumed it was because she felt she could do no more, not to mention he had not been very hospitable. He didn’t bother reminding himself again no etiquette existed for preternatural relations. 

As time neared the third month of Jessica’s incarceration, very little changed. Elizabeth’s engagement dominated the town’s attention, and Jessica remained out of sight. She rarely said a word to anyone. Norrington had permitted her to have books to pass the time, and he heard that Claudia had resolved to officially document her sister’s existence for posterity. He did not mind these things—or rather he pushed them out of his head, for the reminder that Captain Jay languished beneath his feet pained him. 

The day the royal courier came had started out on the wrong foot. Storms the evening previous had left debris behind with some moderate damage. A frustrating incident in town involving an escaped hen had taxed Norrington’s patience. Amidst this Norrington seemed stiffer than usual. Truth be told, he slept badly the night before and he could not move his head without discomfort until early afternoon. 

Lieutenant Groves simply avoided him for a short while, hoping that the tiny absence would endear him to his superior. Or make him less likely to throw a sharp object in Groves’s direction. 

The repairs on the Dauntless were nearly complete. Norrington would be pleased to hear that in his report. As he strode down the gangplank and back on to the dock, composing his report in his head, Groves spied the man in official garb and felt a strange tingle in his spine. 

He greeted the gentleman, revealed his name and rank. The man bowed, offering his title and position along with apologies for the delay, then pressed a leather pouch into Groves’s hands. 

The thought unsettled him that he held the fate of the woman who had saved his life so much that he stood in place for several moments even after the gentleman had vacated his presence. 

Lieutenant Gillette yelled his name but it didn’t register. When Gillette placed a hand on his shoulder, Groves finally acknowledged his presence. 

Gillette started to tease him about having his head in the clouds when he spied what Groves held in his hands. 

“Hold a moment,” Gillette said. “Is that...what I think it is?” 

“No,” Groves responded to the unspoken question. “I didn’t open it. For all we know, it could be something else.” 

Gillette raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.” He gave the leather a considering look. “Do you think he would know if we...took a small peek?” 

Groves rolled his eyes. “That man is a bloodhound. He would most likely know that we discussed it even if we didn’t open it at all.” 

Pause. “We should get this to him immediately.” 

“Wait.” Groves placed a hand on Gillette’s arm. “What if this is it? What if he has to...?” 

Gillette pressed his lips together. “The only way we could ever know is to simply give it to him.” 

Fueled by their curiosity coupled with equal parts dread, Groves and Gillette took long, ground-eating strides to Commodore Norrington’s office. 

When they arrived at their superior’s office, Norrington was dismissing a newly appointed midshipman. He blinked at bit at the sight of them in his doorway but regained his poise. “Gentlemen?” 

“Commodore,” Groves began, “this just arrived by courier. I came here without delay.” 

Gillette’s eyebrow quirked but he said nothing. He watched as Norrington took the leather pouch from Groves and extracted the parchment from the inside. The document was stamped by the official wax seal of His Majesty the King of England. 

With a small moment to regard the seal—and to visually verify its veracity, no doubt—Norrington unfolded the parchment. He took one prolonged look at the document, face impassive, and sharply exited his office without a single sound. The document went into his coat, result hidden for now. 

Groves and Gillette shared a glance behind his back and marched behind his heels. They knew better than to ask any questions at this point. 

Captain Jay was the single prisoner in their keep at the present. Norrington made little acknowledgment of the officer on watch even though he dutifully saluted and stood at attention as his superior went by.  

The footfalls seemed loud in the absence of no other human interaction, but she didn’t even move when they clamored through. She sat on the stone floor in the cell, her back to the wall. She had eaten very little since her incarceration had begun, and her clothing hung limply on her skinnier frame. With her knees up to her chest and staring at her arms on her kneecaps, she appeared a pale version of her old self. 

Her head only lifted when she sensed Commodore Norrington near. 

To explain what Jessica Thomas felt at that moment would be complicated. Amid a myriad of feelings, she had tried to hang on to serenity. However, grief and indignation fought to shut it out, leaving her exhausted. She wanted this to end. If she was going to die, she wanted to get it over with. 

Neither said a word. Finally she tilted her head to look at him, the starkness of her eyes popping out of her dirty, gaunt face. He did not react to seeing her this way but inwardly he cringed. She slowly rose to her full height, and if the bars had not been in place they would have been toe-to-toe. 

She shattered the silence. “So when is the appointed hour, Commodore?” 

He gazed at her unwaveringly. Something flickered in his eyes but his features did not change. 

“The appointed hour is out of my influence, Captain,” the Commodore stated flatly. Her face started to fall, feature by feature. “It seems that you have been pardoned by His Majesty himself.” 

She tried to hold on to her calm but it flew out of her grasp. Her heart started thrumming with an emotion she hadn’t felt in a while: hope. He nodded to the guard, who unlocked the cell. It creaked open, and it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. 

“You are free to go, Captain Jay,” the Commodore advised her. 

Her lip trembled but she quickly firmed it while she mustered up poise. She still had enough pride left and she hardly wanted him to see her cry. She took a tentative step forward, then another. Now they were toe-to-toe. Volumes of words hovered in the air, silent and waiting to be used, spoken. 

She only chose three. “Thank you, Commodore,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion. 

He shook his head imperceptibly. “I hardly did anything.” 

A smile ghosted at the edges of her mouth but she uttered nothing. She moved past him, flanked by Gillette and Groves and he watched her back, fighting with his emotions as well. 

Norrington was a few paces behind, but he witnessed the tearful reunion between the two sisters. He heard Claudia fussing over her big sister, chattering about getting her cleaned up and in new clothes. Finally Jessica had to tell her stop talking I need a moment and began sobbing in into her younger sister’s dark hair. Feeling like a voyeur, Norrington drifted back into his own world.


	9. James, Jessica

 

 **8.0**  – _James/Jessica_

 

It was a Tuesday morning two weeks after Captain Jay’s release when Commodore Norrington had received the mysterious note. Unlike the weighty and long-anticipated document from the King, the sender folded the letter in quarters but left it unsealed. He frowned at the innocuous paper in Gillette’s outstretched hand, wondering who would want to contact him. 

Port Royal’s response to the Captain’s pardon had been completely polarized; either one agreed or they vehemently opposed it. The opposition strove to create mayhem, and some disgruntled folks had found themselves on Claudia’s property three days after her sister had been freed, seeking to drive her and her family into the sea. The woman in question, after pulling her weapon on an overzealous intruder, apologized for her offenses and made an emotional plea to be left alone. 

 _But I will not be threatened,_  she had warned them _. I do not seek to harm anyone, nor do I plan to take advantage of your hospitality. However if anyone of you oversteps your boundaries you will meet the merciless woman I am trying mightily to bury._  

The mob had been disbanded at the order of the Governor, and the most fervent spent a couple of nights at Fort Charles. Afterward, the mood of the town leveled as Elizabeth Swann’s wedding preparations reached a fever pitch. Meanwhile, Jessica remained out of sight, dealing with an illness that had developed upon her release. 

Shortly thereafter he had visited the Vargas residence to apologize to Claudia, who apologized in kind. He had been allowed to briefly peer into Jessica’s room, but she had been resting. He made no further attempt to contact her.  

Norrington placed the map he was examining on his desktop and looked up at his Lieutenant. “I was told to hand this to you personally,” Gillette stated. Norrington opened his mouth to speak, but Gillette continued, “And I was also ordered not to reveal who gave me this to deliver or the author before you perused it.” 

Norrington’s mouth pursed together in a line. He had little time for foolishness. He plucked the note from Gillette’s hand and unfolded it, annoyed at the subterfuge. The handwriting was neat and simple. The note itself consisted of one line, giving nothing away with its brevity:  _I need to speak to you. 2:00. The courtyard._ The sender neglected to provide a signature. 

Norrington removed his pocket watch to check the time. The minute hand hovered perilously close to the 12, the hour hand on the cusp of contact with the two. He rose with a frown, moving across the floor quickly as he donned his tricorn hat. 

“Lieutenant, who handed you this note?” Norrington inquired as they exited his office. 

“One of Miss Vargas’s cousins,” Gillette answered. “Cynthia. The pretty blonde one who works with the dressmaker if I recall correctly—” 

Norrington quirked an eyebrow. “You seem to have her frequently on your recall, Lieutenant.” 

A smile ghosted at the corner of Gillette’s mouth, and he didn’t deny it. “I imagine since you have settled things with Miss Vargas that it was not she who composed the note. Perhaps the Captain has emerged from hiding.” Norrington said nothing. Gillette glanced at him sidelong. “Sir, I know you promised me to secrecy, but this may be the opportune moment to—” 

“No one is ever to know,” Norrington interrupted sharply. “Including her.” He gave Gillette an intense, slightly desperate stare. “Assure me again you will carry this knowledge to your end.” 

Gillette stared back steadily but then slowly shook his head. “I am one of the few people you trust to flank you in times of peril, and I would even sacrifice my life and well-being for you without hesitation. But this, James, is folly. I cannot support you in keeping this secret forever. She can sense that you must have done something. Tell her the full truth.” Frustrated, Norrington started to turn away, but Gillette restrained him. “James... I will keep your secret for now, if you promise to tell her eventually. She needs to understand the price of her freedom.” 

“The burden is mine to carry,” Norrington insisted. “I will not be dissuaded on that fact.” 

Gillette hovered for a moment longer before he strode away. Norrington inhaled deeply with the aim of pushing his volatile emotions under the surface. He would need to be clear-headed in order to deal with his mysterious acquaintance. 

She stood in the middle of the deserted courtyard facing the sea. Despite the humid day, she wore a black riding coat buttoned up to her chin. She wore a stone gray skirt underneath and her favorite boots peeked out under the hem. Her long dark hair ruffled around her head, unbound. His footfalls echoing off of the stone walls made her turn. Her expression remained blank, but her eyes changed. 

“Good afternoon, Commodore Norrington,” Jessica greeted him. 

“Good afternoon,” he greeted her back, slightly unsure what to call her. He strode closer, seeing that she still retained the paleness from her time in prison. Her dark hair and clothes enhanced her pallid skin. “You look...somewhat recovered.”

She looked down at herself, frowning at the sight of nearly unrelieved black as if she didn’t remember dressing herself for the day. “I have been finding it difficult to remain warm,” she explained. “Since...since we docked.” Since I fell ill. She brushed a lock of hair out of her face when he didn’t speak. “I just wanted you to know that I am leaving Port Royal tomorrow morning.” 

Norrington’s gaze remained steady and unwavering—much unlike his unsteady and much-wavering heart. “What is your destination?” 

She peered out at the ocean again. “London. Cassandra plans to start her own business—a restaurant she calls it. She would like my assistance. I suppose you could say I have a bit of business acumen.” 

Norrington nodded faintly and chuckled as he absorbed the news. Jessica stared at him silently, dark hair blowing along the soft breeze. After a brief moment, she shifted toward him. “I hope...Commodore, that you obtain everything that you ever desired.” She tilted her head. “Thank you for saving my life.” 

He schooled his features to blankness. “I did nothing to warrant your gratitude.” 

She surprised them both and reached up to touch his cheek lightly before lowering it to her side again. “If nothing in your world is preserving my life, then I am curious what your something would be.” She smiled gently. “Until next time, Commodore.” 

With a swish of her coattail, she turned and left. He watched as she strode away, words filling the void between them. Acting on impulse, he hurled seven of them into the air and made her pause: “Would you ever return to Port Royal?” 

She stopped in mid-stride. When she turned back, an impish gleam twinkled in her eye. “Perhaps. If I am given ample reason to return.” 

He tried not to be affected by the implication. “I would have thought that your family would have been enough reason.” 

An earnest softness came into her eyes at that moment. “There may be more here for me than my family. This little blossom...I did not expect it to bloom, and I am not entirely sure what its final form will be. But it just needs a little time to grow in my absence.” 

Grasping her meaning, he responded, “I assure you, Captain, it will be handled with the utmost care.”

 

*              *              *

 

The next morning when the merchant ship Paramour set off for London, England, Norrington found himself at the highest point of Fort Charles, armed with his spyglass. He refused to heed the rational part of him that warned against this very action, and before he could stop himself, he stood upon this spot. 

He examined the figures milling around on the upper deck until he found a familiar visage. She stood at the railing looking out at the sea, her expression blank. After a moment, her eyes closed and her face relaxed with pleasure. Her arms stretched out at her sides as if she were embracing the salty air. Her mouth moved so faintly that he could barely figure out what words it had formed. As she and the ship drifted out of sight, he lowered the spyglass with comprehension. 

 _Soy libre al fin._  

 ** _I am free at last._**  

His own face softened at the thought. “Yes you are,” he murmured to no one in particular. After a humming moment, he descended back into his normal existence.

 

*              *              *

 

One afternoon several weeks later, while heading back to the fort, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. 

“Commodore! Commodore, wait a moment!” 

He turned to find Claudia, flanked by another young woman with flaxen hair. Judging by her dress, she was the young woman who had Gillette in her thrall. Taking them both in, he realized that Claudia’s countenance was much calmer, and she seemed happy. In one hand she held the handle to her violin case and in the other she clutched a sheaf of envelopes. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Vargas,” he greeted her. He addressed the unknown female. “And to you as well, miss.” 

“Cynthia Dunne,” she introduced herself. “And you are Commodore Norrington, am I correct?” When he confirmed it, she did a slight curtsy. “It is great to finally meet you. I have heard a great deal.” 

“And none of it good I assure you,” Claudia joked. 

Cynthia sent her cousin a slightly chiding look then turned back to Norrington with a gentle smile. “Nonsense. She is merely jesting. I hope you are well, Commodore. I heard about your most recent voyage.” 

“Sea travel is not without its own peril,” Norrington remarked. He raised an eyebrow as Cynthia examined and fingered a slight tear in the arm of his jacket. “I beg your pardon, Miss Dunne.” 

“Oh!” She cleared her throat and removed her hand as if burned. “Apologies. I just have never...” She tilted her head at a slight incline, cornflower blue eyes avid with interest. “Commodore, do you have a tailor?” 

Claudia rolled her eyes and sighed. “You must forgive my cousin, Commodore. In her world, we are all walking canvases upon which she can apply her knowledge and perfection.” Claudia’s tone was dripping with irony. Cynthia slid a glare in her direction. 

“Excuse yourself miss, for you shouldn’t throw stones in glass houses. Remember last week when you complained for two days about the piano at church being out of tune?” Claudia fumed. “I still have no idea what you heard, it all sounded perfectly melodious to me.” 

Claudia turned back to a perplexed Norrington. “Excuse us, Commodore Norrington. I promise not to take up anymore of your time.” She placed her violin case on the ground so she could have a hand free to sift through the envelopes. When she found the one she wanted, her light eyes peered up at him meaningfully. “I received a letter last week, and this was inside, addressed to you.” 

She held out her hand, envelope clasped in her fingertips. From this angle, he spied his name written out in neat handwriting, identical to the writing on that mysterious note from weeks ago. 

Something flickered across his face before he could stop it. “Who sent this?” 

Claudia’s gaze remained steady. “I believe you are aware who sent it.” 

His eyes lowered to Claudia’s hand. His hesitation lasted no longer than a second, but within that time, many thoughts zipped through his brain. Was this indulgence? And if so, how could he allow himself to partake? What was her aim in sending him a letter? Did she merely desire a platonic relationship? Would her news be that she had met someone in London? 

The practical, rational side of him brushed these questions aside, telling him he would not know until he read the blasted thing. 

Then his instinct, a quieter, calmer voice, reminded him that aside from her family, she had not reached out to anyone else _. If I am given ample reason to return._ He would be doing both of them a disservice if he did not acknowledge the correspondence. 

He took the envelope gingerly.

 

*              *              *

 

_Dear Commodore Norrington,_

_I have to start by being completely honest with you: I have not the faintest idea why I am addressing this to you, but here my hand scribbles on anyhow. I arrived in London safely, and upon reaching land I sent a letter to the King thanking him for my pardon. I hardly believe by any stretch of the imagination that he will respond, but I would have felt remiss if I had neglected the exercise._

_After exchanging some of my possessions for currency, I began the arduous process of starting my new life. I reside within Cassandra’s residence, and unfortunately she declined my offer to assist her with the financial upkeep. She insisted instead that I invest in her restaurant, and so I did. I never had any doubts, but when I spied the final result, I realized I had definitively made the right choice. My new life has begun._

_Commodore, imagine—no longer would you have to enter a dark and dank place to have a meal. Imagine a place where you could experience comfort and service. To me, it makes little difference, for charm and perfection are not mutually exclusive, but I can suppose that you would enjoy the atmosphere. Perhaps if you find yourself nearby you could visit. Cassandra already has a place set for you. She hardly allows me out of the kitchen, stating that is my domain. As much as that annoys me, she is correct. I have been studying with a master chef from Paris who has taught me many interesting dishes. I already have one in mind for this gentleman I happen to know in the Royal Navy._

_Cassandra grants me one and a half days off each week. We have employed some young men and women to assist us with the lesser tasks. Luckily I have not had to dispense any harsh discipline; Cassandra usually leaves me to deal with them. Always the Captain, she says._

_We have a wonderful view of the Thames, and the little twinges of nostalgia assault me whenever I peer out of my window. No matter where I find myself, the Sea is my refuge. She can take me anywhere, including the place I belong. I am content, but the idea of where I belong continues to plague my thoughts. I am unsure I will ever find it._

_Claudia tells me that Port Royal has been rather uneventful in my absence, but she lacks your scope as we both well know. I hope all is well within your world, Commodore. Everyone deserves Peace. Even if She doesn’t settle on your doorstep, don’t be afraid to seek Her out._

_I must conclude this letter, Cassandra requires my assistance. She has a date with this gentleman who frequents our fine establishment. She is currently flitting around like a hyperactive hummingbird. I cannot help but be amused by her enthusiasm._

_Until next time,  
_ _J. Thomas_

_P.S.: If you will, Commodore, please keep a careful eye upon your subordinate and my cousin. Lieutenant Gillette is no doubt a gentleman, but we are both aware what desire can do to rational individuals._  

Norrington lowered the letter. Nighttime had descended, and the meal Jasper had concocted for him had long grown cold. Even after the fourth time reading the letter, he could not shake the bemusement. While Jessica’s tone emanated affability, reading between the lines he sensed that she wanted to share her new life with him. Almost as if…she _cared_ what he thought?

 

Somewhere, and he could not discern where, his relationship with this woman had deepened and changed. I already have one in mind for this gentleman I know in the Royal Navy. He traced the word “one” with his finger, wondering faintly if he would see her again. 

“Commodore Norrington?” 

Norrington looked up at the sound of Edmund Jasper’s voice. The older man’s already lined face was creased with worry, and he frowned at the sight of the untouched plate. “Oh Jasper. I...” He briefly rubbed his temples. “I have been very distracted today. I did not intend to neglect the meal you prepared for me.” 

Coming into the room, Jasper took the plate from the desktop. “I will reheat this for you, sir. You must eat.” As he lifted the plate, his eyes rested on the signature at the bottom of the letter. Following his gaze, Norrington shifted the papers he had on his desk to cover the letter. Jasper, not daunted, quirked an eyebrow at him. “Is this the cause of your distraction?” 

Norrington’s pursed into a line. “Jasper—” 

“I distinctly recall when you brought that wayward woman to this island,” Jasper continued, not heeding the warning in Norrington’s tone. “I knew she was going to invite trouble from the moment I rested my eyes upon her.” He paused then and considered his charge. “But when you spoke of her, I became perplexed. It has been my experience that whenever someone is so horribly maligned or highly revered in someone’s esteem there has to be more to the tale.” 

“I will admit that I judged Miss Thomas very harshly, but I had my reasons,” Norrington revealed. “She was very adept at perpetuating the persona of Captain Jay. However, I believe that a great deal of her motivation to maintain the façade resided in the fact that she had her sisters’ well-being resting upon her shoulders.” 

Jasper nodded. “And there, Master, is the depth that most people ignore when they regard her. She has a great deal of work to do to earn her rightful place in this world but she is a strong woman.” An eyebrow quirked. “Perhaps if she had some assistance…” 

Norrington looked up sharply. “Jasper, I hope you are not insinuating that I would be the person who would offer her that aforementioned assistance.” 

“Oh no, sir. I would do nothing of the kind.” Jasper’s bland stare indicated that not only would he but that he already had.

 

_Dear Ms. Thomas,_

_I have to admit as well that I was quite perplexed when your sister delivered the letter you addressed to me. However, that does not mean I do not appreciate your thoughtfulness. Despite our differing points of view, I found myself wondering what became of you, if you had reached your destination safely. I am relieved to hear that you reached London without difficulty._

 

He lowered his quill, mystified. Words and sentiments swirled around in his head, and he stopped himself from revealing everything he thought and felt at that moment. His feelings for the woman writing to him from London were complicated. The blossom she had mentioned was fragile, yet. 

Perhaps it needed foundation. 

He continued to write.

 

_Your current venture sounds like a grand undertaking, and while I know that you will withstand the challenge, the fact that you and your cousin are primarily managing this yourselves gives me some cause for concern. During our dubious sojourn I noticed that Ms. Strattford, other than her ailing father, has no other male associates that might be willing to lend their expertise or endorsement to the endeavor. Additionally your own circumstances, if you do not mind me pointing out, are rather wanting in that respect as well and I know you would loathe asking for a man’s assistance. Again, allow me to reiterate this does not mean that I doubt that you and Ms. Strattford are able to succeed. Quite the opposite, to be frank._

_My memory of London is vague since it has been nearly a decade since I set foot on English soil last, but it appears that your dwelling resides in an auspicious location. It surprises me little that you have such longing for the Sea after traveling it for a great deal of time, but it is my experience that where one truly belongs can be as simple as where one wants to be. Your restlessness is ingrained, perhaps a relic from the space of your existence where your sisters’ well-being rested upon your shoulders. You always were moving, never lingering in one place or another, which made it very difficult for you to be caught. (I bear no ill will about those circumstances, let me assure you, not only because I did actually apprehend you but also because I have a better knowledge of your character.) Perhaps this is an opportune time for you to discern where it is you would like to be._

_Your sister’s vantage point of Port Royal does lack the scope of a Navy man, but she is not too far off the mark in her assertion. Other than a few small warrants for minor lawbreakers and training the new recruits, the gentlemen of Fort Charles (as you so affectionately termed us) have been rather inactive. The repairs on the HMS Dauntless are nearly complete, much to my relief. It is a miracle that the ship emerged from the skirmish with our preternatural enemy without being completely destroyed. Because of that skirmish, the midshipmen regard me in the manner a mortal would regard a god walking among them, and the new recruits whisper incessantly behind my back. As a Captain in some respect you understand my uneasiness with this. It does lend me an air of absolute authority, but it renders me unable to fail. However, I digress._

_Your invitation for a meal reminds me that I have quite a bit of leave that I have neglected to take. I am not sure what sort of circumstances would land me back in London, but if I find myself in your vicinity I will partake in your service. I am curious to discover what exactly you have in mind for this gentleman you “happen to know in the Royal Navy.” (Being coquettish hardly suits you, Ms. Thomas, but that particular statement inspired some mirth.)_

_Please give Ms. Strattford my regards._

_Sincerely,_

_J. Norrington_

 

After letting the ink dry, he folded the letter and slid it into an envelope.

 

 

*              *              *

 

_Who, you, worry? Ha, I figured once you caught wind of Cassandra’s and my predicament would you have your “concerns.”_

 

**Ms. Thomas, I assure you, as forward-thinking as an educated man purports to be, he may not regard you in the same manner as he would a gentleman of similar stature.**

 

_One of the problems with this world, Commodore Norrington, is, among other things, that the greatest minds are locked away in their kitchens._

 

**Marriage is an acceptable aspiration for any sane person and does not necessarily signify confinement. In fact, I believe it is to the contrary if executed correctly. A marriage to a fine man or woman can bring happiness and fulfillment.**

 

_And so that begs the question O Exalted Commodore…do you aspire to be married?_

 

**One can fill their life with tasks, mundane and momentous, but eventually there comes a certain stage when one’s own company becomes insufficient if it cannot be shared.**

 

_I suppose that’s the reason why a pyramid is pointed at the top. There’s not much room for company when you’ve reached the highest you can go._

 

**Command is not supposed to be comfortable or else it would not hold the importance it does.**

 

_Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be normal, to be small, fit in the palm of someone’s hand._

 

**You have the potential to be whatever it is in your desire to be. You have a great capacity for loyalty and your dedication to loved ones is inspiring for even the most stolid of temperaments.**

 

_You’re not too threadbare yourself, Commodore Norrington._

 

**The state of the town seems rather monotonous since you left.**

 

_Perhaps I will have to return._

 

 

*              *              *

 

The next time the two saw each other was at Elizabeth and Will’s wedding. 

He had reluctantly attended. He had enough breeding to prevent him from refusing the Governor’s invitation, but he remained in the background, not wanting to attract attention. He witnessed the union of William Turner and Elizabeth Swann with the faintest of regrets. He could not begrudge her happiness. At the reception, a few persistent females had attempted to engage him, but his stoicism turned them away to more interested specimens. 

When Governor Swann walked up to him, he called upon the breeding that had carried him into the building. The effort was minimal since he enjoyed the Governor’s company. “Congratulations, Governor.” 

Governor Swann, the flushing proud papa, clapped a hand on Norrington’s shoulder. “Thank you, Commodore.” His eyes sobered a touch as he remembered events of the past. “I…realize things did not turn out in the manner you had been hoping…however, I still hold you in high esteem.” 

Norrington gave a slight nod. “I appreciate that, Governor Swann.” 

“To be quite frank, Norrington, I found myself wishing for a long while that things were different, that you were going to be marrying my daughter.” He smiled wistfully as Norrington remained silent. “I believe you would have done everything within your power to keep Elizabeth happy, but…” He shook his head and fixed Norrington with a steady stare of a man enlightened. “I am not entirely sure that Elizabeth would have made you happy. She looks up to you in the manner a young woman regards an older brother and while she would have grown to have some sort of love borne out of duty, her heart belongs to William, I am afraid.” Norrington absorbed this, appearing slightly resigned. Governor Swann spied Norrington’s expression and his lips curved in a small, reassuring smile. “However, I feel that your heart may be ready to open itself to another.” 

Shock made itself plain on Norrington’s features. Mortification spread like a jolt through his stiffened frame. “I beg your pardon, Governor…” 

A knowing glint came into Governor Swann’s eye. His manner was gentle and paternal; he understood Norrington’s desire for privacy but, as an older, more experienced person, he saw that the younger man hid behind his sense of duty and convention. In this one instance, the act did nothing but prevent him from living as he deserved. 

And as if heralded by a higher power, over Norrington’s shoulder, Governor Swann spied a familiar figure in very unfamiliar garb. His gaze shifted back to the Commodore meaningfully, then away again. With an arch of an eyebrow, Norrington turned to follow the Governor’s gaze.  

“Please make sure that you don’t miss it when it comes by.”

Norrington nodded as Governor Swann drifted away, his attention snagged on the sight of her. 

She had obviously dressed to blend into the background as well. While the other female guests, her sister included, fluttered in creams and pastels, her dress thrummed on the deeper end of the spectrum with a stomacher and petticoat in dark rose under a gown with a matching pattern. After greeting Elizabeth, she drifted along as Claudia chatted with the new bride, offering a smile or a nod when necessary, but when her gaze rested upon him her eyes sharpened with interest. 

When she stopped next to him, silence reigned for several moments. He regarded her out of the corner of his eye, noticing that she appeared much healthier than when she occupied a cell at Fort Charles. Those unspoken words entered the air again. 

“Very interesting don’t you think?” she said conversationally. 

“What’s that?” he asked. 

“The difference between the motivations of an unmarried woman and an unmarried man at a wedding,” she responded. She gestured to a group of brightly dressed females flirting with a rather nervous looking man with spectacles. “For us—some of us—it’s an opportunity to achieve that which has been dangled before us. And for others...” She gestured to a licentious young man whose purpose was engaging in sexual relations before the evening was over. “For others, it’s an excuse to get between someone’s thighs for sport and blame it on the headiness of the circumstances.” 

Norrington cleared his throat to conceal his chuckle. “Rather scandalous of you to regale me with that sort of commentary, Miss Thomas.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Am I Captain Jay no longer?” 

“Not since His Majesty’s pardon do I think of you in such a manner,” Norrington replied. “After all that moniker represents a side of you that no longer exists.” 

She laughed. “Commodore, that side of me will always exist. I cannot unlearn what I have learned, I cannot undo the doing that made me into the person I am. It is naïve of you to believe that a piece of paper has magically spirited away half of my personality.” He said nothing, but it wasn’t disapproval that laid itself plain on his features. What she spied on his face softened her. “If you are concerned that I will reverse my fortunes then your fears are unfounded. I have learned from our adventure together as well.” She paused and spied her younger sister across the room speaking with the blushing bride. She looked back at him to find that his gaze had too strayed in that direction. “Not to mention I have a great deal of motivation myself.” 

The meaning in her tone broke the spell that Elizabeth’s form had on him. “What sort of motivation would that be?” 

She didn’t dignify that with a response, only smiled and moved around him. She held out a hand as a new song began. “Dance with me, Norrington.” 

“I get the feeling this is not a request,” he said wryly. 

“No it was not. Old habits and all,” she offered up as explanation, then, as his hand slipped into hers, led the way toward the dancing guests.

 

*              *              *

 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Elizabeth Swann-Turner paused in mid-sentence and did a double-take. After a second look, she stared, gaping. 

“Elizabeth, are you all right?” Claudia asked, concerned. 

She watched the man and woman for a moment, then smiled. Claudia’s brow furrowed in confusion and followed Elizabeth’s gaze. After a beat, her brow smoothed and her mouth turned up into a smirk. 

“I saw that one coming,” Claudia said smugly. 

“Claudia, I believe everyone saw that one coming.” She tilted her head slightly as Jessica said something as and Norrington cracked a rare smile. Her eyes softened with affection, the sort a young woman carries for an older sibling. “I am just vexed it didn’t happen sooner.” 

At that instant, a group of women floated past, and their disgruntled words reached Elizabeth and Claudia’s ears. The friends shared a glance, then rolled their eyes in unison. 

“Jealous cows,” Claudia muttered. “I don’t know why you invited them.” 

“My father was in charge of the guest list, remember? They’re just aggravated because they didn’t receive the fine honor of dancing with Commodore Norrington,” Elizabeth told her, sensing her instinct to protect Jessica’s interests. “Fret not, my friend. I am sure from this moment, Jessica is more than capable of taking care of envious maidens.” 

Claudia started to retort, but the song ended and clapping filled the space. Their attention was caught by the man standing on the makeshift stage. Governor Swann stood in front of the musicians, happiness emanating from every pore. Elizabeth smiled faintly at the sight of him. Behind her, she felt her husband’s presence, nearly completing her happiness. 

Elizabeth listened to her father’s words as he shared his joy for the occasion. William wrapped his arms around her waist, and for a moment she sank into her husband’s warmth. Until the sight of Norrington distracted her. 

Her vision tunneled, and briefly she saw no one but the Commodore and the Captain. Jessica stared up at her male companion, and then leaned in to whisper in his ear, blocking Elizabeth’s view of him. When Norrington reappeared, shock dominated his features. Jessica said something to him and let it linger. 

Then she turned toward the exit, reaching behind her for his hand. 

As she pulled him toward the exit, the guests looked to the bride and groom. Elizabeth tracked the top of Norrington’s head as he moved deeper into their guests, not noticing that everyone watched her. 

Claudia shifted toward her, but the mirth in Claudia’s eyes became confusion as she spied Elizabeth’s vacant look. “Elizabeth?” 

Elizabeth focused on a puzzled Claudia, and her tunnel vision faded. Determined to cover her lack of attention, she grinned up at Will, who seemed slightly worried, and placed her lips on his. When she pulled away, the look he spied in her eyes settled his concern.

As her father resumed his toast to his only daughter and her new husband, Elizabeth considered Norrington’s exit. Quite frankly, he had far outlasted her expectations so she could not be offended. At that moment Elizabeth found her happiness was utterly complete.

 

*              *              *

 

The starry night blanketed them in its twinkling beauty, and Jessica sensed that her companion relished being away from the Swann/Turner reception. As they rushed away, Jessica gathered her skirts in her hands until they had enough distance between themselves and the ballroom to slow their pace. Nearly tripping, she made a growling noise low in her throat. 

“Something amiss?” 

Jessica tugged at her dress impatiently. “I am still not used to wearing dresses for such a long period of time. It is rather uncomfortable.” 

As Jessica fidgeted, Norrington gave her a considering glance. “Comeliness rarely resides in the same realm as comfort.” 

Jessica paused and her head slowly turned to regard him with astonishment. “Commodore Norrington…did you just…utter a mildly flirtatious remark?” After a beat, “Are you sick?” 

“I assure you I am in the best of health.” His voice held a dry tone but Jessica was more amused than offended. “If you desire for me to tell you that you look beautiful in that dress, I will not oblige you.” 

Jessica’s mouth curved upward. “You already have. You didn’t utter the words, but your reaction to me spoke volumes.” When he shifted to look at her, some of the mirth left her expression. “I possess enough humility to recognize that you had an effect on me, as well.” 

He gazed at her sidelong, and she felt the weight of his stare. It took all she possessed not to meet his look. A part of her felt vulnerable and she feared the look she was sure his eyes held at that moment would shatter her resolve. They walked along for several moments in silence. 

He spoke first. “I am slightly surprised that you returned so soon,” Norrington remarked. “It appeared from your letters that you had settled into life in London.” 

Jessica tilted her face toward the sky, expression inscrutable. She emitted a small sigh. “Cassandra got married.” 

Silence descended at the admission. Norrington could not tell if she felt happy about this turn of events and feared asking her. “The gentleman from the restaurant I presume?” 

Jessica nodded. “I knew from the moment she returned home after their first outing that she was sunk.” She chuckled tiredly, and he smiled faintly. She lowered her gaze to her hands clasped in her lap. “It suits her well, married life.” She stared off into middle space. “I wonder...” 

As Jessica trailed off, James attempted to speak. “Miss Thomas, I—” 

Jessica groaned then, and shoved him in the arm. “Norrington. Formality be damned. You can address me by my first name. It isn’t as if we haven’t been through you nearly carrying out my death sentence—among other varied adventures.” 

He frowned at her levity. “I would imagine the circumstance to be graver to you.” 

“It would have been graver if you had slipped the noose over my head,” Jessica clarified. “And we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

James cleared his throat of the lump that had settled there. “Indeed.” 

“You were just carrying out your duty, Commodore,” Jessica assured him. “Please do not agonize over it.” She placed a hand over his and he looked up instinctively. Her lips curved. “I want to hear you say it. My name.” 

 _Pause_. Her first name rolled off his tongue, and a chill went up her spine. Never in her life had she heard her name spoken in that manner, with that timbre. If she had been a lesser woman, she would have melted into his lap. 

“You have been paying attention,” Jessica quipped to diffuse the tension. “High marks for you, Commodore.” 

“And what about mine?” 

Jessica blinked at him in astonishment. “I miss your meaning.” 

“You continue to address me formally as well,” James pointed out. Jessica raised an eyebrow. “I have uttered your name, and I would like to hear you respond in kind.” 

She held his stare for a couple of heartbeats. She spied something in those olive depths for which she was unprepared. Then she shrugged to lighten the air. “Not a chance, Norrington.” 

He sighed exasperatedly and didn’t fight the eyeroll. She smiled mischievously as they reached Claudia’s front yard. She learned in and murmured his name before dashing toward the front door. She nearly tripped on her skirts and swore aloud. He watched her with equal parts vexation and affection as she opened the door. She paused, not sensing him behind her. She turned with one eyebrow arched expectantly. 

“James? Are you coming?” she asked. 

She wore an expression of puzzlement, brows furrowed and eyes emanating light from the lantern Claudia kept on her porch flickered across her face and for a moment he thought he spied a smidgen of unease. He strode up to her, hovering close enough to reach out and brush his fingertips along her prone hand. 

He reached out and placed his hand on porch railing, brushing her hand with his. She took a hastily in-drawn breath at their close proximity, the warmth of his body. 

“After you,” he said softly. 

With a quirk of an eyebrow and expelling her lungs, she turned toward the open door and led the way inside thinking that she now was utterly sunken to the depths over this man...but she was hardly going down alone.

 


	10. Mother, Mourning

**9.0** – _Mother/Mourning_

 

She tore herself from the dream state violently, sitting up in bed with her heart racing and chest heaving. 

As the chill registered on her sweat-soaked skin, the images of the dream, so vivid and intense when she had been sleeping, were already fading. Instinctively, she reached to her right, where her husband would have been, but remembered too late that he was away on mission. Filled with a melancholy she attributed to Norrington’s absence, she grabbed his pillow and hugged it tightly. 

His scent traveled up to her nose and she allowed herself to indulge in the memory of the last time she had seen him. 

The day had started off normally enough; they had breakfast, then parted ways. She had returned from Grady’s when she spotted the naval officer on her doorstep. Before he could even complete the explanation that her husband had sent him, she’d demanded to be taken to Fort Charles. 

She’d burst into his office and he had excused everyone else so he could speak to her in private. They had argued briefly; he hadn’t wanted to give her details, but she disagreed. Finally he had relented after she’d pointed out they had very little time to spare. When he had outlined the details of the mission, only one word leapt out and grabbed her by the throat: _dangerous._  

She hadn’t pushed things any further. Knowing him, he would go forward despite what either of them felt because he believed it was his duty. The only thing she could offer was an anchor, motivation to return alive. She had walked to the door, locked it. The look in her eyes had left no question what she wanted as she had joined him in front of his desk. _How long do we have?_ she’d asked.

 _Enough,_ he’d said. Her disrobing him had been so precise that he had been too stunned to stop her. If anyone had heard what ensued behind that door that day, they didn’t let on. 

In front of his men, their farewell had been perfunctory. She had not cried. They hadn’t kissed or clung. Her _Godspeed, Commodore_ had been composed and supportive. The glance he had spared in her direction had been imbued with gratitude, love and promise. She had watched the _Dauntless_ sail away until it had disappeared completely from the horizon before returning home and making sure to keep active. 

She returned to the present, to the dark of their bedroom, rubbing her wrist. He had bruised her there, but it had not been inflicted with the intent to harm. The memory of his sighs as she had branded him from thigh to chest surfaced, unbidden, and the wave of heat had her tossing the pillow aside. She cursed and rose from the bed to walk off the flare of arousal on her skin. 

It had been several months since the face-off with Barbossa. She had not heard from her sister and friend, and as time wore on, she began to worry. Even when she told herself that she went months without contact with anyone not on board, that nagging doubt grew in the back of her mind, fueled by the lack of contact. As became her habit, when her mind drifted to Danie and Jack, she told herself she was being silly. 

The weeks her husband had been at sea were bittersweet; she spent most of her waking hours with her family and Elizabeth in the newly coined Gaia House, taking in the warmth of their company. Claudia and Elizabeth had only become closer since the whole kidnapping ordeal, and Cynthia was fast becoming a third in their group. They welcomed Gretchen and Samantha in their camaraderie, and having Jessica along gave them a sisterly dynamic, as if she were the matriarch of this cluster of ladies. 

When she returned home, she had to rely upon Jasper for company. Their relationship shifted as well, since Jessica insisted that he speak to her beyond the mundane details of housekeeping. She learned a great deal about him and his life before he became James Norrington’s butler. They cooked grand dinners and reminisced about times past, laughing over steaming pots and chopped vegetables, and Jessica took the excess to Grady’s and Gaia House. 

At night, however, when she occupied the bed she shared with James, she was alone with her thoughts and feelings. She missed him terribly, and his letters were an inadequate substitute. She found it difficult to sleep, so usually she left said bed and ventured downstairs. 

On this particular night, after her fitful rest and ardent memories, she found herself in her husband’s study. She felt his presence most here, amid his books, papers, and maps. Within their home, the study was his utopia, the place where that was completely, wholly his. She sat behind the desk and felt instantly steadied. She released a sigh and settled into the chair. 

James hadn’t been expecting the assignment, so his desktop had been left in a state of disarray. She had fought with herself the past four weeks whether to tidy up his papers or leave them. Now behind the desk for the first time, she shifted sheets in a more orderly fashion before she realized she was doing it. 

As she picked up a sheaf of papers, a blue book fell onto the desktop. A glance at the spine yielded no clue about its subject or title. She opened the first page, intending to peek at the title page when the pages fluttered out of her grasp and revealed the book’s middle was hollowed. 

In the hollow space she discovered letters, yellowed and brittle from age. After a moment of indecision, she gently picked up the letters and unfolded the first. The greeting had tears prickling her eyes: _My darling James_. She nearly dropped her discovery as realization washed over her. _This is from…_

She forced herself back to the present and fixed her eyes to the page. She took in every word, every sentiment, every morsel of information, and the closer she got to the end of the letter, the harder she found it to breathe. The closing prompted the first tear from her eyes: _your beloved mother_. 

Eyes streaming and slightly ashamed, she folded the letter and placed it with its companions before returning the letters to their hiding place. 

She and her husband both came from scarcely idyllic homes; her mother had died before she was a teenager and her father had lived with the eternal disappointment that he had five daughters, while her husband’s mother had died when he had been six and his father… Well, to be frank, James deftly avoided any mention of Lawrence Norrington; most of her knowledge of the retired Admiral had come from Charles Merrell, and none of it inspired any assurance that she would like him. 

Thinking on that vein, she wondered what it would have been like if they hadn’t been left in this world without their parents, particularly their mothers. 

When Jasper found her an hour later, she was still in that pensive state. The older gentleman paused in the door way and stared at her for a long moment. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, her left forearm and her right elbow rested on her knees. Her wedding ring glowed faintly in the moonlight as she tapped her fingers rhythmically against her right cheek. He spied the telltale tear tracks and inwardly smiled. For all her bluster, she sincerely loved the Commodore and seeing her in this state, while somewhat painful, reassured him. 

Finally he spoke. “Mrs. Norrington?” 

Her eyes focused upon him, and it took a couple of seconds for her to comprehend who he was. Abruptly she slid her feet to the door and stood up straighter, shame staining her cheeks. “Oh, Jasper. I…I didn’t wake you did I?” 

“Not at all, milady,” he assured her. “Are you all right?” 

She didn’t respond immediately. She mustered up a smile for him, and after the time he had spent with her, he could tell it was feigned. “I…am…”  The smile slipped from her lips and she looked at him as if something occurred to her. “Jasper…has James ever spoken to you about his parents?” 

Jasper considered this a moment. “At the time we met, the Commodore—or Lieutenant he was then—had informed me that his grandmother—his father’s mother—had passed away, resulting in his voyage here. I got the impression that his grandmother was very close to his mother when she was alive, and Madame Sinclair used to intercede on her grandson’s behalf when she could, believing that is what his mother would have wanted. He never revealed it openly, but I gather the Admiral subjected his son to some extremely callous treatment.” 

Jessica remembered her grandmother Evangeline’s words to him when they met her in Exeter. The smell of the flowers in bloom around them assaulted her, and she closed her eyes, the image of James kneeling in front of the French woman with his face half illuminated by the moonlight. _Someone has hurt you, **cher ami**. You haven’t escaped as you hoped because they still chase you every day, non? **Maudis-vous faire de cette façon!** Such a pure heart, a strong, valiant heart—it’s still there, you see, but buried under years of misuse and neglect. Ah— **jamais peur** , cher ami, for it can be repaired. When it is whole, when that day comes, James Norrington, you’ll find it in the hands of someone who shares your strength—and will guard it with her life._

She swiped the tears on her cheeks away and came back to the present. “And his mother?” 

Jasper shook his head. “Little things, milady. She loved literature and was extremely intelligent. I get the feeling that she doted on him, which explains Madame Sinclair’s fervent attempts to normalize his existence after her death.” He finished and lifted his shoulders with an expression of regret. “I wish I could tell you more, milady, but that is all I know. But perhaps…you could…” 

Jessica shook her head at the implication. “I…” 

“Just consider it, milady. I know a great deal about you both from living in your midst, and as adept as you are with navigating your present, you are both neglecting your past.” Jessica looked down. “Because someday, Mrs. Norrington, you’ll have to consider the same thing your parents did.” She looked up in question and he allowed his gaze to settle upon her meaningfully. “Having children.”

 

*              *              *

 

On the way to Gaia House the next morning, she revealed to Claudia and Elizabeth what happened the night before. 

For a while, their footfalls filled the quiet. 

“Well?” Jessica prompted. 

_Silence._

Jessica sighed. “Fine, I am willing to concede that wasn’t my proudest moment but—” 

Elizabeth stopped abruptly and placed her hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “No. Jessica, that’s not…” After a quick moment of contemplation, she restarted her statement. “Any one of us in the same situation would have done the same thing. Sometimes it’s the only way to learn anything about where the people we love come from. You see, Will lost his parents as well, and he doesn’t like to discuss it, so I understand how you feel.” 

Surprised at the revelation, Jessica just stared at the younger woman. Claudia remarked, “And I think Norrington would agree, if you told him. It might start a dialogue that I think you need to have regarding our and his parents.” 

Jessica looked away and stared straight ahead as she started walking again. The thought of talking about what happened put a lump in her throat. “I don’t think I will be able to ever talk about what happened to Mama, you know that, _Claudia Elena_.” 

“And you married James Norrington to keep secrets from him? What’s going to happen when he wants to have children?” 

Jessica did not break stride but her shoulders stiffened slightly. Elizabeth sent Claudia a questioning look. Claudia had spoken about Irene Thomas more freely than her older sister, but Elizabeth felt a deeper problem hovering below the surface. Claudia sighed and shook her head. 

“Good morning, ladies!” Cynthia Dunne came bounding their way, appearing buoyant and eager. She crossed the street, but when she got closer, they could spot the fatigue in her face. She fell into step beside Jessica, and Jessica frowned. 

“Cynthia, are you all right?” she inquired, shirking her earlier fears to shift into _hermana mayor_ mode. 

Cynthia’s smile dimmed a touch. “I just…didn’t sleep as well as I had hoped is all,” she revealed. When Jessica raised an eyebrow indicating that answer would not suffice, Cynthia sighed. “I got a letter from Mama yesterday.” 

Jessica bit her cheek to keep from smiling when Claudia asked, “And how many times did she offer to come to Port Royal to take care of her precious child?” It was hardly a secret that Rebecca Thomas Dunne over-doted on her youngest child—especially after witnessing what happened to her older sister’s daughters in the wake of her death and her eldest running off to join her cousin’s pirate crew. 

“None. She instead asked me when she was going to be a _grandmother_.” 

“And that made you think of Gillette, didn’t it?” Elizabeth guessed. Cynthia nodded sadly. 

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” Jessica assured her cousin. “Besides I understand how you feel.” Cynthia looked at her gratefully. “Even though I am not entirely sure what you see in Phillip Gillette.” 

Cynthia gave a long-suffering sigh as the entrance to Gaia House came into view. “You know, I wish mightily that two would get along. It hurts me to see you quarrel.” 

“As long as he believes I am a bad influence on my own husband, I don’t see that happening,” Jessica remarked. 

“He just worries that you can be a bit… reckless sometimes,” Cynthia admitted, “and the Commodore has picked up a bit of that as well.” 

“Mostly where Jessica is concerned,” Elizabeth pointed out. “I think, while it is troubling to some, it shows how much James cares for the well-being of the woman he loves. Trust me, the last thing you want is that man hesitating over anything. How would he get anything done in his personal life?” 

Claudia chuckled. “I am still wondering where he gained the courage to propose when he did.” She nudged Jessica. “What’d you do to him? You never did explained how he asked you to marry him, by the way.” 

“I don’t believe I did,” Jessica confirmed pointedly. Everyone else seemed a mite disappointed. 

The front door burst open and kids spilled onto the yard, laughing and squealing. A disheveled Gretchen followed behind. Eight little bodies ran into the women, surrounded them with their glee. Gretchen stopped and exhaled heavily. 

“Did you need some help, _Margarita_?” Claudia asked Gretchen. 

“Oh they’re just happy to see us,” Elizabeth demurred. She smiled down at the guileless face looking at her. “Besides we have a tradition, don’t we?” 

The enthusiastic affirmation from the children served as response. The women herded the errant children into the house to sit down for breakfast with them as was their custom on certain mornings. 

Gaia House currently housed fifteen orphans of varying ages. The youngest was nearly two, the oldest ten. Cynthia, with her nurturing spirit, had taken the little Emma under her wing and the change in her had been significant. All of the children had flourished in one way or another, even the tomboyish Helen who had been as stubborn an ingrown nail. As Samantha walked into the large dining room and watched Elizabeth, Claudia and Jessica ushering the kids into their chairs, she spotted the curly auburn head at her cousin’s back. 

Her sister stopped next to her, holding Emma. “Do I have to guess that Helen King initiated the uproar this morning?” 

Samantha shook her head in consternation. “Would it be a normal morning if it were not the case?” She caught Jessica’s eye across the room and tilted her head toward Jessica’s back. Jessica frowned, then turned. She raised an eyebrow at the ten-year-old. The curly-haired child grinned her at innocently and ran off to the her seat. 

The six women and the fifteen children sat down for breakfast, with Emma in Cynthia’s lap. Any meal at Gaia House was an entertaining affair, a firm mandate from Elizabeth who did not want to stifle the children with the heaviness of their circumstances. The six adults took turns sitting at the head of the table, and whoever sat at the head had to lead the table in a discussion or share a story. This time, it was Jessica’s turn in the hotseat. 

Of course, Helen was the first to raise her hand. “Yes, Helen?” Elizabeth prompted. 

“I wanna hear how Mrs. Norrington learned to swordfight,” Helen responded. The older children looked at Jessica excitedly over their plates, pleading for her not to refuse. She couldn’t—part of the rules. She flicked a glance toward Claudia and Elizabeth. They both gave her a slight nod. 

After a beat, she conceded, “Oh I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” The kids cheered, and Helen looked proud of herself. “All right, ladies and gentlemen, settle down.” She waited until the children went quiet before she began her narrative. “Once upon a time, there was a little girl, around your age—” 

The front door burst open, and Jessica’s head whipped up and around. The whole room stopped, and the man clad in the blue coat received everyone’s attention. Jessica blinked, for the sight of the navy blue material threw her off-balance. Dread snaked its way up her spine as she absorbed the lack of decoration that enhanced her husband’s coat. 

“Pip!” Emma cried, referring to the hunched over, graying figure in the doorway. 

Cynthia was the first adult to react. After giving Emma to Jessica, she crossed the room to him and took him out into the foyer where she immediately began to search him for wounds. She pulled his jacket back from his torso and was greeted with the sight of blood. A great deal of it. She stared up at him, blue eyes wide. “Phillip, my God—” 

Gillette took her hands. “It’s not all mine, darling,” he assured her, but the hidden meaning in his voice was hardly comforting. Jessica slowly placed the child on the ground and stepped into his view. Gillette’s face held a strange pallor as he looked at her. She had a split second to breathe before he said, “The Commodore is hurt.” 

Whatever Gillette said afterward got lost in her single-mindedness. _The Commodore is hurt_ launched her into action. She heard someone call her name, but she was gone. 

Meanwhile, Claudia cursed aloud. She looked to Samantha and Gretchen, who tried to calm the children and coax them into eating. “Stay here,” she ordered. She and Elizabeth went to the hallway where Gillette had been guided to a chair by a worried Cynthia. “Where is he now?” 

“At the Fort,” Gillette responded. To Cynthia he said, “Cyn, I need to go be with them.” 

“But you’re hurt, too!” Cynthia pointed out. “At least allow me to tend your wound before you go running off again.” She looked to her cousin and friend. “I will send him that way once I’ve a look at him.” 

Gillette looked at his normally mild-mannered sweetheart in surprise. “Cynthia, you can’t—” 

“You’re in no place to argue with me, Phillip Gillette,” Cynthia interrupted him. 

Any other time this would have been cause for amusement, but the circumstances appeared too dire. Claudia nodded to Elizabeth. “I think Jessica may need some support.” 

“I agree,” Elizabeth said. “Let’s go.”

 

*              *              *

 

At Fort Charles, chaos tinged the air. Officers moved in a flurry carrying in the wounded and helping others who were not completely able-bodied to disembark the _Dauntless_. She scanned the faces worriedly, hoping to spot her husband. Dread had become a heavy presence in her belly, nearly forcing the tea and scones Jasper had served her at breakfast upward. 

“Mrs. Norrington!” 

She whirled around. Murtogg and Mullroy marched up to her. Their usually jovial countenances were solemn. Before she could speak, Mullroy said, “If you’re looking for Commodore Norrington, we can take you to him.” 

“Yes,” Murtogg added, “that would be best given the current state of disarray.” 

They began walking again and she fell into step between them. They sidestepped two redcoats carrying a wounded officer on a stretcher. She forced herself to look away. “How bad is it, gentlemen?” The men shared a glance. “There is little sense in shielding me from the truth,” she reminded them. “I will soon see with my own eyes. I merely wanted to be…prepared.” 

A long, loud howl met their ears. Jessica didn’t have to be told who had emitted that sound of pain. She took off running again and the men followed. 

She threw open the door and stormed in without preamble. Murtogg and Mullroy were on her heels but still not quite fast enough. She recognized Groves and the naval physician from the _Dauntless_ instantly. They gazed at her in shock as the back of the door loudly hit the wall, announcing her entrance. Groves recovered first, rose sharply and tried to stop her. “Mrs. Norrington—” 

“This is _not_ the time to stand in my way, Lieutenant,” she snapped. 

“We need to tend to him first,” Groves told her. “He’s hurt.” 

“I can see that, I’ve eyes you buggering arsehole! Now get out of my way before I have to take you down and if I do you won’t be getting up.” She moved to shove him out of the way but he grabbed her arm. 

“Stop.” One word bled the ire from them both. “Both of you.” The voice was hoarse and quiet but firm. Groves turned, a question in his eyes. “Stand down.” Groves dropped Jessica’s arm and nodded to Murtogg and Mullroy, who discreetly exited. She was frozen, eyes on his prone husband. His eyes met hers, and she spied the pain-laced fatigue in them. “Come here.” 

There was little question to whom that order had been directed. She crossed the space quickly and lowered herself to her knees. She clasped his right hand in both of hers and brought it to her chest. The physician stitched up the long wound on his thigh and she deliberately kept her gaze diverted. She understood he needed something to hold his focus so he wouldn’t flinch. A couple of tiny twitches belied his calm but she tried not to let on that she noticed.

 “So I allow for you to go away for a few weeks and this is how you return?” she asked, the roughness of her voice opposing the intended levity of the question. 

“Hardly the plan, darling,” he responded. The physician began a new stitch and James winced, quite noticeably this time. She squeezed his hand and brought his attention back to her. “Missed you, Jess.” 

“I missed you too. And I have to tell you that this screws up any plans I had for your return. I suppose it’ll have to wait until you’re…” She trailed off and took in his battered body. She failed to suppress the tears that filled her eyes. “Completely healed.” 

A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “Anticipation abounds,” he quipped. She chuckled and freed a hand to stroke his hair. It took several moments for the strangeness of his natural hair between her fingertips to sink in. His eyelids fluttered, then closed. She watched him as he slipped deeper into unconsciousness, hoping that he didn’t feel any pain in his sleep. 

After a long while, she said, “Groves?” She felt him move in response at her back. “I’m sorry.” 

Groves retook his chair. He looked as pale as Gillette had and doubly exhausted. “I know. I’m sorry too.” He sighed. “I…I’m still shaken. He was almost killed.” She shuddered out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “If it hadn’t been for the lady with the bow and arrow he wouldn’t be here right now.” 

Jessica’s eyebrows furrowed at Groves’s statement as something hovered at the back of her mind. She looked at him inquisitively. “Groves, what happened exactly?” Groves flicked an uneasy glance at his friend and superior. Jessica had a feeling her husband had warned his officers she would ask questions. “Please don’t lie to me. I would rather hear this from one of you.” 

Groves pondered a while, twiddling his thumbs. Finally he straightened and leaned toward the woman on her knees. “The band of pirates we had been tasked to find had commandeered a Dutch merchant vessel. They had already killed the captain when we caught up with them. They resisted us, and our men were getting cut down right and left. The Commodore entered the fight, desperate to turn the tables. The pirate with whom he had been grappling pushed him off a ledge and the fall dislocated his shoulder and broke a few ribs. He refused to go down and kept fighting with his other hand. One of them tried to stab him but missed, instead making the gash on his leg. The pirate captain stood over him, about to strike the killing blow, when an arrow sailed through the air and went through the back of the man’s head. Even before the man dropped, arrows rained down from above, and pirates fell one by one by one.” 

Jessica absorbed the tale quietly. There were plenty of competent archers in the world, but she knew only a handful that possessed such deadly accuracy. “Did you get her name?” she inquired. 

Groves paused to think. “No, I don’t recall. But the Commodore insisted that she come with us—” 

Jessica placed her husband’s hand gently down next to him and stood. “She’s here in Port Royal?” 

“She wanted to help with the officers.” He watched as Jessica headed for the door. “She brought a man with her. I think they were Japanese.” 

After a muttered oath, Jessica said hurriedly, “Groves, excuse me for a moment. I have a matter to see to before I take James home.” She gave him no time to ask questions before exiting as hurriedly as she had entered. Groves shared a look with the physician. 

“Sometimes I worry about that woman,” Groves remarked. 

The physician gestured toward the sleeping Norrington. “Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to let him hear that. I don’t feel like stitching him up again if he tries to come after you.”

 

*              *              *

 

Jessica found her in the barracks. 

She wore her long dark brown hair in a low ponytail with one lock on either side left to dangle in front. Her pitch black kimono showed little signs of distress, and her hands moved competently and gingerly. Her voice was hushed as she spoke to a naval officer as she bandaged his wound. Jessica recalled the cadence of her voice and stopped short just beyond the entrance, overcome with emotion. 

As if she felt her stare, the woman looked up and stared at Jessica. She gave a slight bow to her charge who thanked her for the nurturing. When she rose, her gaze rested on the younger woman, who smiled shakily. 

They walked toward each other and eventually collided in a fierce hug. Jessica could not recall the last time she allowed herself, outside of her husband and sisters, to be held this tightly. After the chaos of the last hour, she found the contact with the woman she had not seen in years to be steadying. Something inside of her cracked, and tears ran down her cheeks as she buried her face in that dark ponytail. 

There was no need for hello. They spoke through their embrace. 

 _“I—I need help,”_ Jessica whispered, struggling to find the words in her memory and stumbling over the pronunciation. _“I can’t h-handle this alone.”_ She stepped back and looked into her face. When she spoke again, she switched to English. “My husband is incredibly hurt. You met him.” The woman’s face crinkled inquisitively. “Commodore Norrington.” 

Her features slackened in shock. “ _That_ is your husband?” Hastily she hugged her again. _“Mako-chan, no need to worry. You have my assistance.”_ A grim expression crossed her features as she caressed Jessica’s hair _._ She felt it was the least she could do, since circumstances would soon deteriorate, and it would sadly be her doing.

 

*              *              *

 

When he awoke, he was in his own bed at his house. 

His mind eased him into the waking state as it assessed his body’s condition. He was still alive given he could feel the ache from his shoulder and his throbbing side and thigh. He allowed himself a deep breath and the throbbing and pressure at his side increased. Broken ribs, he remembered. He reminded himself to keep his breaths shallower than normal until his ribs healed. 

The feel of the air around him on his bare skin felt foreign. He glanced down and found that, other than the bandages binding his ribs and the stitches running from close to the top of his thigh to a couple of inches above his knee, he was completely naked. A sheet covered him from hip to the top of his thigh. 

The door creaked open and his wife made an appearance. She carried a teacup and a bowl upon a tray, steam billowing into the air. Behind her, a woman wearing a plain black kimono entered carrying a mortar and pestle. As they neared, he recognized her as the woman from the Dutch merchant ship. 

Jessica sat down, placing the tray on the night stand and facing him. “Welcome back, Commodore Norrington.” 

“How are my officers?” he asked. 

“They are on the mend,” Jessica answered. “Everyone has been stabilized, and the ones who are able to move about are in the process of restoring order. Groves said the damage to the _Dauntless_ was mild, considering the circumstances.” She gave him a stern look when he opened his mouth again. “You are allowed to rest, James Norrington. Don’t even think about rising until you can stand without falling.” 

“You cannot keep me from my duties,” James reminded her. Something cold hit his thigh and he hissed as it stung. Jessica turned and looked at the woman. The woman flicked a glance at both of them then went back to her task. 

“The salve stings a little at first, but it will ease the pain,” the woman explained gently. Her Japanese accent tinged the words lightly, and her movements were delicate, maternal. The strands of her dark hair brushed James’s right calf as she worked. “I put some of the herbs in the tea to soothe your insides.” She looked at him mildly from her lashes. “Please drink, Norrington-sama.” 

Jessica picked up the teacup and brought it to his mouth. She angled the cup so that he drank. _“Not so fast, Mako-chan,”_ the woman chided. 

 _Mako-chan?_ James watched as his wife placed the cup back on the tray. _“Gomen,”_ she murmured. She addressed her husband. “How are you feeling?” 

He took that opportunity to assess himself. His ribs and shoulder still ached, but the throbbing from his thigh was slowly lessening. “A little better.” The Japanese woman’s hair brushed his calf again, reminding him of his nakedness. “Now I understand why I am not wearing a stitch of clothing.” 

Jessica fought a smile. “Don’t worry, Commodore, your reputation is still intact. I only allowed myself the pleasure of undressing you when we were alone.” 

Blood pooled in James’s cheeks. His mortification grew when the woman added, “Very interesting what the uniform hides, _ne_ Mako-chan? You did very well for yourself.” 

It was Jessica’s turn to blush. He decided not to focus on their growing embarrassment instead dwelling upon the familiarity between the two women. “Do you…know each other?” 

The woman placed the pestle back in the mortar and slowly rose to her feet. She seemed very tall from his vantage point and he remembered when he allowed her on the _Dauntless_ she was nearly as tall as he was. She laid a free hand on Jessica’s shoulder, which Jessica covered with her left hand, her wedding band winking in the candlelight. Jessica seemed to falter but the woman squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. 

Finally, she lifted her gaze to him and spoke. She appeared apprehensive. “Darling, this is Suzume Arashi. She’s…” 

“Family,” James finished, finding Jessica’s nervousness endearing. She smiled at him for his understanding. 

“We are glad that Mako-chan has found a mate who understands her many nuances,” Suzume said. “I hate we had to meet under these circumstances.” 

A shadow crossed Jessica’s features, inexplicably. He had a feeling that it went beyond his being injured, but did not have the energy to press. “I agree with both sentiments.” 

Suzume squeezed Jessica’s shoulder again. “We should leave him to sleep, give his body time to heal itself. Your friends will be happy to know how he is doing before they return home.” 

Jessica looked at him, and he spied her reluctance to leave. “Go, Jess,” he murmured, finding that it took much effort to speak as fatigue enveloped him again. She nodded and rose as Suzume drifted toward the door. 

She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her husband’s lips. He dimly wished he had enough energy to deepen it, to hold her in his arms and reveal how much he missed her. “Rest, darling,” she said softly against his lips. She pulled away and smiled gently down at him. The last image he had of the waking world before he fell into unconsciousness was her mouth forming three words: _I love you._  

*              *              *

 

Two mornings later, Norrington had risen with the express intent to return to his duties. He felt that he had rested enough. However, everyone else didn’t, but he still won the battle. 

He found himself questioning his sanity halfway through the day. 

His lieutenants and his wife had forbidden him to do anything but walk around (or limp really, given his current physical state) and sit at his desk with paperwork. He wasn’t even allowed to raise a spyglass. That was part of the bargain made in the carriage on the way to Fort Charles; Norrington was not allowed to execute the physical aspects of his duties. Able-bodied and willing (and dare he say, exasperatingly protective), his wife volunteered as physical replacement. No one possessed the bravery or ignorance to deter her. 

While he had been able to witness his officers’ condition firsthand and thank the majority of them for their bravery, his restrictions made him feel ineffectual. 

He told his wife, now in a pair of leftover breeches, boots, a shirt that most likely belonged to someone half her age and a jacket in a violet hue, this very thing as she set up his lunch in his office around noon. She looked at him sternly. “You would be more ineffectual if you didn’t heal correctly.” He grumbled and ate his lunch. He hated to admit it, but she had a point. 

“Of course I have a point.” He nearly choked on broth. Had he spoken aloud? _Dammit._ She sighed and lowered herself to sit on the edge of the desk, facing him. “Oh James, what happened this morning wasn’t us trying to kick you while you’re wounded. It was us trying to make sure that you can come back better.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “Just a few days. No one would’ve thought badly of you.” She leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. “You mean to tell me that you have never allowed yourself to rest your entire life?” 

He thought of his life, from childhood to present, and shook his head. “If I had…” 

“You wouldn’t be where you are today. I get it, darling. But you do have something now that you didn’t have then.” He looked at her in question. “You have a wife.” His eyes dropped to his hands. “I have had my share of battles and tried to pretend I was perfectly fine afterwards for the sake of appearances. But when I look back, I ask myself, _Was it worth it? Was it worth it to make it look like I was impervious?_ No—of course not. If I was willing to fight with them, I had better be able to hurt and heal with them, too.” She looked out the window, eyes clouded with memory. “One of the first things my grandfather taught me, which in turn, he credits to my mother.” 

He hazarded a look at her and sighed at the open grief he found on her face. He freed a hand and entwined with one of his own. She shifted her attention to him. “That is one thing you and I share that exacerbates these sorts of situations.” He brushed her knuckles with his thumb. “We both had to grow up far too quickly.” 

She nodded, agreeing. “And in some cases, be a parent for the ones who came after you.” 

He watched her, coming to a decision. “Jess? When things settle down a bit, I would like to discuss something with you.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Concerning?” 

He picked an errant strand that had fallen out of his wig and onto her jacket before raising his gaze to her face meaningfully. “Children.” He spied her uneasiness before she suppressed it. She started to rise, but reached out and pulled her back. “Jessica—” 

She shook her head, a study in avoidance with her averted gaze full of apprehension. “I can’t, James. I—” 

A knock on the door cut off her sentence. Fighting a sigh of frustration, he raised his voice to address the person on the other side of the door. “Enter.” 

The door opened and Groves stepped through it. Jessica took the opportunity to stand and shift away from her husband, who frowned at the gesture. They both faced Groves as a slightly taller man walked in behind him. His dark hair was pulled back into a long braid, and he sported a week’s worth of stubble on his face. Unlike his stepmother, he wore European clothing. 

“I apologize for the intrusion, sir, but Mr. Tsukimori wanted to introduce himself,” Groves explained. 

Without warning, Jessica rushed across the room and barreled into the Japanese man. He swung her around in a circle in a fierce hug that had Norrington standing slowly in indignation. Groves stepped to the side to avoid Jessica’s flying feet. 

 _“Matte, Mako-chan—shouldn’t you introduce me to your husband first?”_ the man chided her as he set her on her feet. Eyes bright with excitement, she went behind the desk to help Norrington around it. He felt a mite unsteady in that moment, watching his wife with this mysterious man. 

“James, this is Kaneshi Tsukimori, Suzume’s stepson. _Onii-san_ , this is my husband Commodore James Norrington.” Kaneshi executed a small bow. When he straightened, his brown eyes regarded Norrington with curiosity. Before saying a word, Norrington hazarded a look down at Jessica. If witnessing her reaction to Kaneshi’s entrance and the sudden outpouring of jubilance shook him, the gaze she gave him full of affection steadied him. 

 _“_ _Hajimemashite_ _,”_ Kaneshi greeted him. “Thank you for allowing us to accompany you here, Commodore.” 

Recalling his own near demise, Norrington responded, “Considering the circumstances, it was the least I could have done.” 

Before Kaneshi could speak, Jessica asked, “Where did you sleep last night?” 

Kaneshi and Groves shared a glance. “Well,” Groves started hesitantly, “He slept here at the Fort. He took over helping Dr. Flynn take care of the men after Ms. Arashi left and it was too late to try to figure anything more elaborate.” 

Jessica placed her hands on her hips. “That sounds utterly uncomfortable and frankly unbecoming of a man I consider family.” She twisted her head to stare at her husband expectantly. 

Norrington’s eyes darted between her and Kaneshi. Not quite grasping what she meant, he finally raised a brow in question. 

Jessica exhaled through her nose and turned her head toward him to discreetly murmur into his ear. “Would you be all right if he stayed with us, darling?” 

When she stepped back to look into his face, he raised the other brow. “Do I get to say no or is this exercise just to entertain our audience?” 

Her eyes narrowed. _Uh oh._ “James Lawrence—” 

He addressed Kaneshi before his wife could give him the Glare of Doom. None of the wounds he had would pale in comparison. “Mr. Tsukimori, how would you like to be a guest in the Norrington household?”

 

*              *              *

 

The question lingering on Norrington’s tongue finally revealed itself when he found himself alone with Suzume. 

In the kitchen, Jessica and Kaneshi caught up on their verbal sparring, having relegated Jasper to prepare the guest room for the displaced duo. Suzume sat benignly across from Norrington at the dining room table. She placed her hands in her lap and waited. 

And waited. 

And… _waited_. 

She cleared her throat discreetly. 

“Um...” 

Suzume looked up expectantly. She could see the words flitting across his face like fireflies. In the kitchen something crashed to the ground. She placed a hand on the table as he half-rose in alarm. “ _Daijobu_ , Norrington-sama. I promise she is quite fine.” 

Norrington nodded as if trying to convince himself as he lowered himself to his seat. “Right.” Suzume stared, imploring him to speak. “Ms. Arashi—?” 

“You may simply call me Suzume,” she told him. 

“Suzume,” James corrected himself, “could I ask a question?” It was her turn to nod. “About…my wife. Did you…did she ever talk to you about her mother?” 

Suzume responded softly, “She protects the memory of her mother with a shield of thorns. Around her heart, _ne_?” Norrington said nothing which confirmed this to be true. “She mentioned her very little. I know that she passed when Mako-chan was a young girl. She spoke more about her father.” Distaste crossed Suzume’s features. “He was a horrible man.” 

“I am aware of his transgressions.” 

Suzume noted Norrington’s tone. In it she sensed his will to protect his wife, and that pleased her. “I see.” She gave him a considering look. “Norrington-sama, may I ask _you_ something?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Do your parents still live?” 

Something flickered in Norrington’s eyes then. Jessica had spoken little about Norrington’s origins and family, but Suzume figured they were estranged. “My mother died when I was six years old. My father…” He paused to take a sip of tea and Suzume noted the stiffness of his posture as he uttered the two words. “My father still lives in England. We…don’t speak very often.” 

 _Hmm._ Suzume took a sip of tea as well as she found the right words. It was clear she had opened up a wound, albeit unknowingly. Ever the healer, she sought to mend the years-old injury. She placed her teacup down and spoke. “It is clear to me that it is his loss. He will never know the value of the family you will create and the capacity of your worth.” He stared at her. “I think with your experiences you will make a great father.” 

Her tone of voice caused Norrington to choke a little on tea. Her eyebrows furrowed and she moved to help if needed. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, I don’t want to rush things. Jess…she seems very apprehensive about the idea.” 

Suzume gave him a reassuring look. “I believe you can put her at ease, Norrington-sama. After all, she just needs a little prodding.” 

Norrington gave a dubious tilt of his head. “Suzume, are we speaking of the same person? Because the woman I married would remove the limb I prodded her with and thinking of the context I don’t believe that would be very pleasant for me.” 

Suzume’s face went blank for a humming moment. Then she burst out into laughter, tear-inducing, gut clenching laughs that had her slapping the table and sinking into her chair. Watching her, he first was not sure how to react but as the sound began to affect him, he couldn’t fight the chuckle. They shared a look over the table and her laughter petered out. Clearing her throat, she straightened herself, and they simultaneously picked up their tea like nothing had happened.

 

*              *              *

 

Sometime later, the five of them (Suzume insisted that Jasper join them for the meal) sat down for dinner. Jessica and Kaneshi had prepared something Kaneshi had called _sushi_ along with miso soup. After Suzume graced the meal, James stared at his plate quizzically, not having seen anything like it. Jessica quirked an eyebrow at him encouragingly as she gestured for him to watch her. He observed as she picked up one of the small mounds of rice, fish, and vegetables with the chopsticks and put it in her mouth. He followed suit and chewed. She smiled as pleasure and surprise went across his face. 

“This dish is quite tasty,” Jasper remarked. 

“I am happy that you enjoy it,” Suzume responded. “Kaneshi used to make it all the time at home. Eating the fish in this way can be off-putting for some, _ne_?” She shifted her attention to Norrington. “How are you feeling, Norrington-sama?” 

James swallowed a sip of tea before answering. “Better, thank you, Suzume.” 

“I am sure Mako-chan is happy to hear that,” Suzume said slyly, peering at the couple over her teacup. “She seems awfully anxious to celebrate your homecoming.” 

Jessica flushed as James stared at her in bemusement. She appeared absolutely mortified. “Darling, what does that mean?” James wanted to know. 

Before she could reply, Kaneshi teased, “It means she’s ready to make up for lost time—” He broke off suddenly as Jessica kicked him fiercely under the table. _“Ow! Hey! That hurt! I was only telling the truth.”_  

“I would prefer that we not discuss what the Commodore and I do behind closed doors,” Jessica said archly. It dawned on James at that moment what Suzume meant. It was his turn to flush. She shook her head in consternation. “You’re almost as bad as Danie in that regard. She insisted that I give her details every time she wrote me because she was convinced that the Commodore was…” She trailed off as the weight of her husband’s stare registered upon her face and she turned to look at him. 

“ _That the Commodore was_ what, darling?” James inquired in a cool, even tone. 

She looked distinctly uncomfortable. It amused him. She knew it. “It would be improper to discuss it in mixed company,” Jessica blurted, and then stuffed sushi in her mouth to prevent her from saying anything more. 

“Your sisters seem like very fascinating individuals, milady,” Jasper remarked conversationally. “Certainly a great deal more frank than other young ladies their age.” 

“My Aunt Elizabeth’s doing,” Jessica murmured as she picked up her soup bowl. “She was adamant that we spoke our minds, especially when it was important to us.” She paused. “And some of us decided to take that to a larger extent.”  She smiled wistfully into her _miso_. “It was all I could do not to sew Danie’s mouth shut sometimes.” 

Something seemed to pass over the table, something James noted but could not interpret. Jessica consumed her soup, oblivious to the shadow that had crossed Kaneshi’s features. She lowered her bowl as a thought bloomed in her mind. “You know, it’s been months, but I haven’t heard from her.” 

Kaneshi choked lightly on his soup, and Suzume gave him a sound whack on his back. Jessica looked at them quizzically. 

“I am sure wherever she has found herself, she is handling herself with aplomb,” James remarked, his tone a bit dry. “After all, if she can take down fifty men, I imagine she would be rather adept at anything.” 

“Well,” Jessica began, voice radiating with pride, “I suppose you can say she learned from the best.” 

James looked at her profile as he remembered her reluctance from earlier in his office. “Your mother would be proud of how she turned out.” 

Jessica’s fingers tightened on her chopsticks and a mound of rice tumbled into her lap. For a split second, something akin to the indeterminate emotion that had crossed Kaneshi’s face several minutes ago flitted across her features, but James detected the change. She covered it expertly by paying attention to clearing the mess in her lap and commenting on her clumsiness. Averting his gaze, he turned back to his own meal, slightly puzzled. Instinct had him looking up and finding Suzume staring at him. She uttered nothing, merely gave him a slight nod before going back to her meal.

 

*              *              *

 

He waited until they were alone and getting ready for bed. The query had floated above his head all night, even amid his fatigue and discomfort. “Jess?” 

She pulled her nightgown over her head and turned to stare at him. Pillows propped him up and one of his lighter nightshirts concealed most of the bruising that had begun to form in the wake of his injuries. She tried not to dwell on his clavicle where the fabric left his currently discolored skin bare. “Yes darling?” 

He opened his mouth and posed the question before his nerves could overtake him. “What happened to your mother?” 

She froze. From the crown of her head to the tips of her toes she went rigid. Her wide-eyed look of shock and open grief pushed a heavy weight onto his chest. _I believe you can put her at ease, Norrington-sama_. He spied the tears in her eyes before she turned away, shaking her head violently. He closed his eyes and steeled himself. 

“Jess…come here.” 

She whirled. He heard the tears in her voice. “Why, James? Why now? Don’t you think it’s enough that seeing you like this has scraped me raw?” 

He deliberately avoided her question and the pang of guilt it brought. “Please, Jess. I cannot chase you if you storm away. I need to explain.” 

“Explain what James?” He felt and heard her come closer. Her footfalls made his ribs ache. “You know how I feel about my mother! You know that is a sore spot—” 

He cut her off with an admission: “I want you to be the mother of my children.” 

The room went still again. When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him wide-eyed again. The color had been leeched from her cheeks. “What?” she managed in a voice so small if he hadn’t seen her lips move, he wouldn’t have known she’d spoken. The one word conveyed her shock. 

“You are petrified of the prospect of motherhood. What I fail to understand is why.” He held out his right hand, palm up. “Help me understand, Jess. Before the moment comes there is no time.” 

She stared at his hand for a long humming moment. He feared she’d spit on it and march away. Instead, she accepted it and allowed him to pull her toward him. He shifted, wincing at the jolt of pain at the movement of his limbs. She gazed at him worriedly but he assured her he would be all right. He guided her to the right spot to occupy, and she was careful to settle her arm far away from his ribs. 

This was the closest they had been in weeks, due to his assignment and injuries, so he indulgently took in her presence. She exhaled and inhaled deeply a few times to calm herself. When she spoke, her voice gave no evidence of the tears she had so recently shared. 

“My father and mother met when he was betrothed another to woman. Marian Andrews was her name. Her family descended from nobility, making her the perfect English bride for an upstart youth. My aunt Rebecca, Cynthia and Samantha’s mother, and my aunt Elizabeth, Cassandra’s mother, had immigrated to England with my grandmother Marisol before the turn of the century to escape the Inquisition. A great Catholic demonstration had happened a short time before, and one of Elizabeth’s friends had been killed. My grandfather, meanwhile, was on the sea with my mother and Aunt Morena.” He frowned at the mention of the young Delia Vargas, but said nothing. “Aunt Elizabeth had met Richard Strattford, and after a short courtship, Uncle Richard asked her to marry him. The ceremony was the event of the season, and Aunt Liz sent out the decree that _all_ her sisters would attend. The wedding gave her the opportunity to match Mama and Aunt Rebecca with whom she deemed worthy.” 

“Was your father worthy?” 

She chuckled sardonically. “Truthfully? Maybe in a different world, he would have been a decent man, but his father had soured any good he had in him. But I digress. In any case, Elizabeth hated him. She’d been angling for Mama to pick a different suitor.” She paused for effect. “Charles Merrell, to be exact. Or Lieutenant Merrell of the Royal Navy, as he had been at the time.” 

Well, _that_ explained a couple of things. “Interesting.” 

“Unfortunately, Robert and Marian’d had a huge row the day of Aunt Liz’s wedding, and needless to say, was struck dumb by the bride’s well-traveled and worldly younger sister. He pursued her, much to Aunt Liz’s dismay, and with great passion renounced his engagement to Marian Andrews so he could marry Mama. Everyone was swayed by the great romance of it all.” He could hear the eyeroll and smiled faintly. 

“So they married and Mama gave up sailing with _Abuelo_ , leaving Aunt Morena as his sole company out of his daughters. And eleven months later, they had their first child.” 

He could tell by the way her voice had quieted that this would but he first of many difficult points. He rubbed the bend of her arm soothingly. “I am guessing that child was you.” 

“Much to Robert’s disappointment, yes. He had wanted his first child to be born male.” James raised an eyebrow at her acrid _Robert_ but remained silent. “He was intent upon trying again, and when I was nearly a year old my brother was born. But as a man who was very difficult to satisfy, he felt this matter could not be settled until Irene Tomas de Vargas had borne him multiple sons.” She shook her head. “If only he had been happy with his lot.” 

“He had daughters,” James observed. 

“Four more. Claud, the twins, then Gretchen. Mama was overjoyed. Robert was furious. My grandmother Evangeline, his mother, told him to count his blessings that he had a healthy wife and children. It seemed she had issued the same warning to Robert’s father, William Bullock, but he too didn’t listen. The disappointment culminated in his death, she claimed. I think I was…mmm…five? Six? My grandfather was a miserly fellow upon which such pressure had been put to uphold the family line, especially after he married my grandmother, whose father was a nobleman.” She waved it away. “Anyway, Mama was determined to make sure we were loved and spared no expense making sure we were rightly educated. When Gretchen was old enough to walk, she took us aboard the _HMS Diamond_ where I met Charles Merrell for the first time. By then he had made Commodore. He was so charming and courteous, showing us the parts of the ship and introducing us to the officers.” Her husband raised an eyebrow. “I told him I wanted to be part of the Royal Navy when I grew up and he laughed.” 

James nearly sat up in shock, but stopped himself in time. It would have hurt immensely. “ _You_ wanted to be part of the Royal Navy?” 

“Don’t sound so shocked, darling.” James sputtered but she resumed her tale and he quieted. “He told me that sadly I could not because the Navy didn’t accept women. And then he added, _But the world is changing, little one. Maybe you will be the first._ Little did he know…” 

“Indeed,” James said dryly. 

“My father stayed behind on these trips, and eventually he forbade Mama from taking my brother, citing that he needed to be isolated from us. Mama fought him but legally she could do nothing. When I look back, I understand that this was the moment she realized she never loved him. From that point, whenever Charles was nearby, he came to visit us.” 

“Do you believe they were…having an affair?” 

She shook her head. “Not physically, but emotionally, perhaps. Charles had his own vows to uphold and three sons in addition to his officers to set an example for, and his strict moral code prevented him from going farther than a brush of hands or a platonic kiss.” She brushed his right thigh. “Reminds me of someone.” 

He chuckled lightly. “ _That_ explains a great deal.” She pinched him but didn’t say anything for a while. He sensed another difficult point. He was afraid he was close to falling asleep. “We can adjourn for the evening, darling.” 

He could feel her swallow, hard. “No,” she said in a slightly hoarse voice. “We’re almost done.” 

When she didn’t resume immediately, he prompted, “I sense a turning point.” 

She exhaled deeply. “My brother died.” 

A chill began at the base of James’s spine. “Your father wanted another son.” 

“And here I thought you would need pictures to understand,” she quipped humorlessly. He didn’t laugh. “Mama was still relatively young, but Gretchen’s birth had been very difficult. The midwife warned her, warned them both, not to conceive again. It would be her end.” 

When realization dawned, he reflexively drew her close, ignoring his own pain. He kicked himself inwardly for pushing. “I believe I understand the issue now, Jess.” 

She drew away from him sharply and turned to face him. “No James, I don’t think you do. She died right in front of my eyes, her blood on the bottom of my shoes. And that damned child my father coveted, that _son_ he’d risked her life for? He was _stillborn_.” 

He searched for the right words in his tired brain as she stared at him, grief pumping off of her like heat. Finally he said, “Jessica, you are _not_ your mother. And I am not Robert Bullock.” Her lower lip trembled at the sound of her father’s name but she quickly firmed it. “You told me once that you felt like your sisters were your children, and given your trajectory I understand the sentiment. But I want to give you the chance to create something of your own. Do you recall when we docked at Fort Hamilton and you asked me who the right man would have been?” 

_The idea had tugged at something inside of him, and his lips had formed words before he could stop them. “If you had asked the right man, Jessica, he would have helped you.”_

_Eyes wide and tearful with an implication she hadn’t wanted to explore, she demanded, “And who would have been the right man?”_  

“Yes,” she responded woodenly, “I recall. Vividly.” 

“I failed to comprehend at first, because the circumstances were so tumultuous, but afterward I realized…I wanted to be the solution. _I_ want to be the answer, Jessica. I want to be the right man.” 

Her brow twitched and she blinked intermittently as her face threatened to crumple. Finally she closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. “Bloody hell, James Norrington.” She inhaled deeply and ran her hands upward until her fingers were embedded in her hair. “For a man who is completely rubbish at emotions you have the uncanny knack of knocking me off-balance.” 

“You could never win against me,” he reminded her tiredly. 

“I’ve never lost either,” she shot back. “So is that what our love is? An eternal stalemate?” 

He closed his eyes. He felt it was safe now.  “I prefer to interpret it as…” He sighed sleepily and she finally noticed how pale and exhausted he looked. “The combining of two equally formidable commands.” 

She said nothing to that, merely watching as he fell into slumber. Her feelings waged war inside her. Love and Grief tugged her heart, grappling for precedence. The revelation of her mother’s death amid the upheaval of James’s return left her utterly drained, but she knew she could not rest. She tried to settle beside him, but Sleep eluded her. She could tell by the movement of the half-moon that some hours had passed when she finally decided to give up trying to sleep. She placed a soft kiss on her husband’s temple before blowing out the fledgling candlelight and leaving the room.

 

*              *              *

 

James awoke a couple of hours later and reached out instinctively for his wife but found the cool sheets and pillow that signaled her absence. 

When he looked back on this moment, albeit reluctantly, he could never exactly pinpoint what had woken him. Perhaps the open bedroom door had offended his senses. Or maybe the absence of the warm body of his wife had unsettled him. However, the truth—whether he would admit it or not—had been less rational, more instinctual. 

He took a candle with him to light his way. 

The sound drifted up to him as he descended the stairs. He was unfamiliar with it. After all, for a great deal of his life, he had been spared most of the displays of emotion unique to great sadness. All of the tears, the particular circumstances vast and varied, he had shed had been in private. He assumed the same thing for his officers; no one spoke about it. 

Without knowing the cause, he knew immediately that the sound was coming from his wife. 

The rest of his descent was hurried and he nearly tripped the rest of the way down. When he finally reached flat ground, he searched the surroundings. On the wooden floor, quite possibly at the very same spot his wife had felled Jack Sparrow, Suzume sat upon her knees, head bowed. Her long black hair had been pulled away from her face in a low ponytail, leaving that sad visage partly visible. As James’s eyes traveled downward, his heart lurched and broke. 

His wife was curved pitifully into a fetal position, curled desperately around Suzume’s right arm. Nearly all of her upper body lay in Suzume’s silken lap. Suzume wept softly in contrast to Jessica’s clamorous and stormy sobbing. 

The older woman murmured to her in what James guessed was Japanese. She caressed her hair but it seemed the effort went unnoticed. 

He hastily placed his candle aside and dropped to his knees in front of the heartbreaking tableau. Suzume raised her head, her dark eyes filled with anguish, lips trembling. He fought the urge to gather her into his arms and demand what was going on, deciding to speak instead. “I can take her.” 

“Give her more time,” Suzume responded. “Just a little…more time.” 

He stared down at his wife sadly. After a beat, he extracted one of the hands that had a vise-grip on Suzume’s arm and clasped it in both of his. Not knowing what else he could do in the face of this huge, gaping unknown, he raised the clammy hand to his lips very lightly. The answering squeeze both reassured and fractured him. 

They sat in that manner for an indeterminate amount of time. He marked how much time had passed since he had joined the scene by the volume of Jessica’s sobs, the strength of her grasp of his hands. When those tempestuous sobs tapered to quiet whimpers and her grasp had slackened, Suzume placed a hand on James’s knee. He had not sensed it—a testament to how engrossed he had been in his wife’s grief—but Kaneshi stood solemnly behind them. 

“Take care of her, and I will explain.” To Kaneshi she said in Japanese, _“Kane-kun, please carry Mako-chan upstairs for her husband.”_  

Wordlessly, because he trusted that the woman would carry out her promise, he watched as Kaneshi shifted Jessica into his grasp and hesitated for him to lead the way. The sober procession ended at the now completely cold bed, and Kaneshi stared at his friend, his pseudo sister, sorrowfully a moment before leaving James with her. 

Jessica was unconscious now, something James considered a blessing. He watched her breathing deepen as it wheezed in and out of her mouth. The tears had left her skin blotchy, and her eyes were swollen. He dreaded the knowledge of what had fractured his normally strong wife into such a display of despair.  

But the only way he would be able to support her, to comfort her, was to possess that knowledge. Heavy-hearted, he placed a kiss on her eyelids, wishing her sweet dreams against the damp skin, then left the room. 

Kaneshi occupied the dining room table. In the time James had been upstairs with Jessica, Suzume had made tea for everyone. When he entered the room Jasper had posed a question to Suzume, but the sight of him stole her attention. In the candlelight, grief had too left its stamp on her face, but the damage had not been as severe as it had been on Jessica’s. 

Their faces held a unanimous question. Swallowing and hoping that his voice would not fail, he assured them, “She is sleeping now.” Suzume sighed with relief. She went to the teapot and James’s mouth thinned. “I believe I deserve an explanation as to what I just witnessed.” 

Suzume went to the head of the table where she expected him to sit and poured hot water into a teacup. “Sit down, Norrington-sama.” 

“You need to tell me what happened right this very—” 

Suzume’s eyes lifted. “ _Please sit down_ , Norrington-sama.” Her voice was low in volume but commanding and fierce in tone. He complied with the order. Jasper took the seat off to his right, Kaneshi quietly sat on his left. He banked his fury as Suzume prepared his tea. His gaze rested upon Kaneshi who had been sipping on the contents of his own teacup when he came into the room. As Suzume busied herself with James’s drink, Kaneshi placed his own back in the saucer with a light clink. 

“She came to me, after you fell asleep,” Suzume explained softly. “She told me…you asked about her mother.” 

James looked down at the tablecloth as shame washed over him. “Did I…trigger this?” 

It felt like eternity had passed before Suzume shook her head. “Not exactly.” 

James blinked at her in confusion. “What do you mean _not exactly_? Was there possibly something else?”

 At that, Suzume and Kaneshi shared a glance before he looked away first. “I…had to give her some very bad news,” Suzume responded. Her gaze dropped to her teacup then as she fought the lump in her throat. 

That same chill James felt before Jessica had concluded her story earlier began at the base of his spine. “What news, Suzume? What exactly did you tell my wife?” 

Suzume could not and did not speak. Sensing her sadness overtaking her again, Kaneshi wearily turned to James to address him for her. “Norrington-sama,” he began, “there is something you need to understand right at this very moment. Our intention never was, never will, and never had been to cause Mako-chan any harm. But we were entrusted to deliver a certain message, and we had to make sure she received it.” 

“And the message?” 

Pain flickered in Kaneshi’s eyes. A moment later he slid a piece of paper in James’s direction. 

Stony-faced, James grasped the paper and unfolded it. Dark, erratic writing jumped out at him, signaling a desperate scrawling. The lines were uneven and jagged, as if the person had no control over their writing, no caring of form or appearance, just the message. 

 _The time is near. Sometimes sacrifice is necessary. Sun on your cheek, wind through your hair—I am everywhere. I love you all. Don’t blame anyone. Glory is finally mine. All I could ask for._  

The note was simply signed, _Danie._  

Realization left him cold. He sat in his chair, dumbfounded. His teacup emitted steam, and he watched the tendrils as they floated upward and disappeared. Suzume stood behind Kaneshi’s chair, unable to sit. She gripped his shoulder, and he placed his hand atop hers. 

When James found the capacity to speak, he inquired, “How?” 

“The power came with a price,” Kaneshi answered cryptically. 

At James’s frown, Suzume clarified, “The _katana_. From what the high priest had explained, the spirit inside demands recompense for its use. The more power expounded, the more damage it does to the wielder.” 

James blinked, thinking of that skirmish aboard the _Black Pearl_. “She only used it once.” 

 Suzume sighed. “No…she used it three times. I believe the second time you witnessed. The third time was her last.” 

James stared at her in alarm. “But Jessica has wielded it as well!” 

Suzume nodded. “When…she was lucid, she informed us of that.” 

“We don’t think Mako-chan is in any danger,” Kaneshi assured James. “The damage would have…manifested itself by now.” 

His worry only mildly assuaged, James asked, “Where is it now?” 

“Buried. With her,” Kaneshi returned, voice so soft that James was not sure he heard correctly. “We gave her the grave that would have gone to my wife in the family plot. Under the name _Tsukimori Tonari_.” He looked away, emotional, and James was slightly shocked. He found part of the answer in Suzume’s face. 

The choice of Danie’s final resting place apparently had not been random. 

After nothing had been said for a while, Jasper rose. He could hear the heralds of dawn approaching. “I believe it would do us all well to get some rest. The sun will rise very soon, and the Commodore has yet to fully recover from his injuries.” 

Everyone nodded, saying nothing. Suzume moved to gather the dishes and take them into the kitchen. Kaneshi helped her, moving around her skillfully to retrieve what she could not. Jasper set the table back to rights, sliding the chairs underneath and straightening out the tablecloth. When James made no move to leave, he paused and placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. James looked at him, and in his eyes Jasper could see his helplessness. 

To the unspoken question in his eyes, Jasper merely said, “Go be with her. That’s all you can do, sir.” And with that, James walked out of the dining room.  


*              *              *

 

Unable to sleep soundly, James finally gave up after sunrise and watched Jessica. 

She had not moved from the position he had left her. Her awakening seemed sudden and painful. The gray light from the overcast sky bothered her bloodshot eyes, and her speech was marred by her scratchy throat. She pressed the heel of her hand into her chest, hoping it would assuage the tightness there. 

“Jess,” James murmured. She choked out his name, and he gathered her close, ignoring the protest of his still-healing ribs. She clung to him but wept quietly. He squeezed his eyes shut to prevent himself from following suit. “Just say the word, and I will stay right here with you.” 

“Please,” she whispered. 

They uttered nothing more. 

*              *              *

 

She woke up the second time screaming. _No. Mama. Abuelo. Hermana. James._ _Don’t leave me. Please—_  

Her cries had brought Suzume, Kaneshi, and Jasper into the room. James, heart fracturing with every plea, tried to placate her but she flailed wildly against the misery no one could combat. Eyes wide, Suzume knelt next to the bed and shook Jessica by the shoulders. She snapped into consciousness on a choked gasp, eyes laden with fear. Her tone when she called for her husband was frighteningly tiny.  

“I’m here,” he whispered in a voice so quiet everyone else barely heard it. “I’m here darling.” 

Shuddering out a breath, she gazed at him until the tears overtook her vision again, and when his face was a blur she placed her head in his lap and cried.

 

*              *              *

 

It didn’t take long before the occupants of the Vargas house paid a visit. 

Suzume remained with James while Kaneshi remained with Jessica as she gave her sisters and cousins the news of Danie’s demise. Suzume attempted to occupy his attention by subjecting him to an examination, but he clearly was preoccupied with what ensued in the other room. Not to mention, she sensed he did not trust her due to her role in his wife’s breakdown. She didn’t blame him one bit, however, she realized too that she was merely the messenger; she had not dealt the blow that killed Danie and could not be blamed for such. 

When she extended James’s arm to test the mobility of the socket, the man set his mouth in a line at her touch. She quirked an eyebrow and said nothing. 

Holding his raised arm, she gently fingered his healing ribs to gauge how much they had healed. When he gave only the barest of winces, she pursed her lips together. 

“If that hurts you need to tell me,” she murmured. 

He remained warily stoic. “And you’ll give me some magic tea to make it fade away?” 

She couldn’t suppress the flare of irritation before it came across her lips and she dropped his arm, sending a lance of pain across his ribs. “I saved your life, Commodore. Despite what has happened since, you shouldn’t forget that.” 

He eyed her as he bore down on the pain. “Yes you saved my person and I am grateful. The havoc wreaked you have on my existence I would hardly call it salvation.” He hazarded a breath as a thought occurred to him. “Tell me, was this your plan all along? If the Royal Navy had not intercepted the ship that granted you passage would you have brought the danger to us?” 

Her words came out considerably more clipped than before. “I am more dangerous than I look, Commodore Norrington. I made a promise to a dying woman and I keep my promises. Nothing would have stopped me.” 

Before he could respond, the crash from the other room startled them both. 

Instinct had them vaulting up from their chairs and rushing down the hall. Before they flung themselves over the threshold and into the room, they were stopped cold by the scene before their eyes. 

Claudia stood red-faced and seething amid the wreckage of a broken vase. Cynthia looked utterly startled while Samantha and Kaneshi neared her in cautious movements. On the far side of the room, Gretchen sobbed from Jessica’s arms. 

“Claud, calm down,” Samantha was saying. 

“That _bitch_!” Claudia swore tearfully. “Glory?” She kicked away a fallen flower, face reddening even more with fury. “The _nerve_ of her. The unmitigated _gall_. She just _had_ to have the last word, didn’t she? Didn’t even try to figure out a better way, a safer way. She wanted to stomp on and thumb her nose at _everything_ we ever did to keep each other safe.” 

“She chose the course of her life,” Cynthia reminded her, voice shaking with unshed tears. “Don’t speak ill of her and act like this is an affront to your person, _Claudia Elena_.” 

Claudia’s green eyes flashed, and then she laughed bitterly. “If only you knew, _mi prima_. You see, from the luxurious Strattford flat in the lovely confines of London, you didn’t get to see the muck and the stink and the _desperation_ of being in the midst of this crusade, of being a hunted woman. You didn’t get to see your big sister in a cell looking like she was three steps away from death and didn’t give a damn.” Jessica’s face crumpled at that and James, remembering her second stay at Fort Charles, leaned on the doorframe for support as anguish washed over him. “You didn’t scribble until you couldn’t move your hand for a week because you wrote so many letters appealing to anyone who would listen to save the only person that sacrificed her life for your own.” Samantha attempted to step in her path as she neared Cynthia but Claudia shoved her out of the way with a force that belied her small frame. “You didn’t, Cynthia Marie. But _I_ did.” 

 _“Claudia Elena,”_ Jessica began in a soft but warning tone. 

“Now here we are, mourning a woman who threw her life away. And for what?” Kaneshi opened his mouth but Claudia cut him off before the first syllable could cross his lips. “Don’t tell me it was in the name of sacrifice. Don’t even try to formulate the lie. Her last words are quite clear. In the end, was she any better than _tía_ Morena?” 

Jessica released Gretchen and strode across the room. No one dared block her when she stepped in between Cynthia and Claudia. Cynthia stepped back mutely and joined Gretchen. 

Faced with her older sister, Claudia’s anger began to crumble. The two women stared at each other for a long moment before Claudia raised a hand and touched Jessica’s cheek. The older woman froze, her olive eyes rapidly filling. 

“You deserved better,” Claudia told her in a soft voice. “For a first mate, you deserved better.” 

Jessica’s face threatened to crumble as tears obstructed her vision. “She was all I had. _You_ were all I had. She was _our_ family, Claudia.” 

“Not enough,” Claudia countered. Jessica visibly winced as if the two words and their meaning had physical weight. “Not in the end. In those last moments, no.” 

Those words hovered between them for a couple of beats when Jessica turned away and slowly walked out of the room, tears streaming unchecked down her face. James reached out but she resisted him, drifting disconsolately to their bedroom with nary a sound. He stared at her back while she walked away; he fought the twin urges to go after her or to find out how to approach her.  

Deciding that a better move was to decode the subtext between the two sisters, he turned to the one that remained. “Claudia?” Claudia eyed him warily. “What was that all about?” 

Claudia looked away for a moment as she considered his question. Everyone watched the exchange with rapt interest. She didn’t lift her eyes before opening her mouth to speak. Judging from the look in her eyes, he was not going to receive the appropriate answer. “She feels responsible, Commodore. Makes sure she doesn’t go over the edge with her guilt.” With that, she exited as well. After a few beats, Cynthia, Samantha and Gretchen drifted out in her wake, leaving Jasper, Kaneshi, Suzume and James with the wreckage.

 

*              *              *

 

When the guilt descended, it was immediately noticeable to all. 

Norrington had lost men. That, at least, resonated within him, and he understood some of his wife’s sorrow. This debilitating, crushing grief, however, seemed another matter entirely. Not only had this woman lost her first mate, but she had lost a family member, a sister. Almost a daughter. 

She hardly spoke. For a woman who normally faced no qualms speaking her mind, her silence alarmed everyone. She hardly ate. For a woman who appreciated the act of nourishment, the contrast was heartbreaking. She came to bed after he was sleep and rose before he awoke. For a solid week he only glimpsed her on accident, like a shade one saw out of the corner of his eye. He saw Suzume more, which was exhausting. He held on to his anger at her as a point of principle more than the logic that the Japanese woman had actually done something wrong. Aside from her words to him on the night Jessica broke the news to her sisters, she banked her indignation and ensured his recovery as he returned to more strenuous duties at Fort Charles. Her earnest care was reassuring in the face of his wife’s absence. 

Daunted by the undertaking of breaking through Jessica’s emotional walls, Norrington retreated to the confines of his own preoccupation. His work had accumulated during his healing, and he sank into the methodical task of catching up. Placing a stoic face on his inner pain was involuntary, as familiar as breathing. Jasper attempted to address him on the matter of his wife, but he avoided it. 

Surprisingly, the next person to confront him on the issue was Gillette. 

They were on the rounds of the Fort when Gillette suddenly said softly, “I have never seen someone hurt quite that much before.” 

Norrington frowned. This did not fit with their previous topic of discussion so at first he had little idea what he meant. “I beg your pardon?” 

Gillette looked at him sidelong. “Your wife.” Norrington’s mouth tightened. “I saw her the other day, though I am sure she didn’t see me. She didn’t see anyone.” He looked ahead of him. “Cynthia told me about her cousin, what happened. How she died.” Norrington said nothing but Gillette saw him swallow. “You are aware that your wife is not my favorite person, but I take no pleasure in her pain, especially when it is so obvious.” He placed a hand on Norrington’s shoulder and made him pause. “If you need some time to deal with—” 

Norrington interrupted him. “I do not need assistance in this matter, Lieutenant.” He averted his gaze. “My wife will be fine in time.” 

The words crossed his lips, and logically it was the most appropriate statement he could have made, but he didn’t feel it in his heart.

 

*              *              *

 

The journey through her grief was one that Jessica was determined to make alone, even if it meant the deterioration of her relationship with her husband, her family, and her friends. 

Perhaps if she had been in her right mind, she would have seen the futility and folly of this in the anguish it caused others. But her mind and emotions were stuck on an endless repeating pattern. When she found her anger at her sister’s foolishness, it was quickly doused with a cold wave of regret, and finally the gritty, dark cloak of guilt. No matter how much Claudia’s words echoed in a deep recess of her mind, guilt persisted. 

During three of those days she had made herself scarce, she had unearthed the last of her grandfather’s liquor. It went a long way toward easing the pain and slowing down her thoughts, but after it passed out of her system it left her with a raging headache. 

She sought relief, but she knew if she approached Suzume she would tell her to talk to her husband. She wasn’t ready for that yet. She knew the act was imbued with cowardice, and yet the courage to face the man she loved, the man who had braved danger to return, eluded her. Some irrational part of her believed she was doing him a service by sparing him the sight of her suffering. She should have known better. 

She went walking aimlessly, faintly relieved when the clouds covered the light of the sun. The brightness had worsened the pounding, but the breeze coming off the ocean felt good on her slightly overwarm skin. When she reached the lip of the cliff, the ocean gleamed in the distance, inviting in its vastness. It had been so long since she had been in the ocean. 

Memories of life at sea surfaced unbidden. Beautiful sunsets, hellacious storms. Tears, sweat and bloodshed. She felt a stirring of nostalgia, remembering the last time they sailed together several months ago. She had been in her element, wind in her hair, weapon in hand. And her sister. I’ll make you proud of me. Hearing Danie’s voice in her mind prompted fresh tears and she stepped closer to the edge. 

_Come back before you go too far, dear child._

The cautionary female voice was unfamiliar.  Its presence incited a spark of bemusement amid the other emotions swirling inside of her and she turned precariously, forgetting there was a treacherous drop directly below.

 

*              *              *

 

Gillette and Norrington were checking on the status of the repairs on the _Dauntless_ when the clamor of rapidly approaching feet broke through their conversation about replacing the main sail. They both whirled to find a redcoat, flushed with exertion, standing in their midst. 

The officer spoke first, hoping to avoid a tongue-lashing—or worse—by being frank. “E-excuse me, s-s-sir? Commodore Norrington?” Norrington raised his eyebrows fractionally, not breaking his expertly blank expression. “I came as soon as I was able…she wasn’t moving very quickly so I hope it’s not too late—” 

As Norrington’s blankness began to fracture bit by bit, Gillette prompted, “Of whom do you speak, officer? There is a plethora of females in this town and pardon us if we are not clairvoyant. We need a name or a description.” 

The poor, hapless officer swallowed hard. “It’s the Commodore’s wife, sir.” Norrington stilled and Gillette cursed inwardly. _Here we go again._ “I saw her out in her nightgown and when I called out to her she didn’t respond.” 

Norrington strode over to him as if he could deduce the answer from the boy’s mind by the closer proximity. “Where is she now?” he demanded. 

The officer paled under the Commodore’s intense stare. “She was…heading toward the cliff, sir. She didn’t seem well—” 

The rest of the sentence went unheard. Norrington rounded him and stalked away.

 

*              *              *

 

The next moments she would never be able to recall clearly. Perhaps that had been by design. 

She dangled over the edge, growing fear and exasperation edging out everything else. She groped the edge, desperate to find purchase and pull herself up. Her pounding heart lurched when she slipped, her feet flailing in the air. 

A litany of regrets ran through her like a rising tide until she forgot to breathe. Her sisters and cousins. Her husband. If only she had one last chance to— 

And then a hand grasped her wrist and her descent stopped abruptly. 

She looked up, eyes wide and glimpsed a hand, a female hand by the size and shape of it. The sun had made a momentary appearance through the thickening cloud cover, providing an intense light at the woman’s back. For a moment she just stared upward, immobilized by awe. 

A guardian angel.

 _I appreciate the reverence but it would help immensely if I had some assistance…you are a bit heavy—_  

The same voice. _You,_ she thought. _Who are you?_

_We do **not** have time for introductions. I need your help to help you. Pull as if your life depended on it._

Firming her mouth at the directive, she swung her free arm upward and laid her palm flat upon the dusty ground. Digging her fingers into the earth for purchase, she called upon all the strength she possessed. She felt her fingernails break and fracture under the strain, but she let the pain propel her upward. The mysterious brown-haired figure pulled on her left, and after what seemed an eternity, she collapsed onto terra firma. She turned into her back gasping for breath. The world went hazy in her view and she knew she soon would faint. 

Before she lost consciousness, a face loomed above her. She had seen many people on her travels, but she had never laid eyes on this woman before. However, something about her features was familiar but she couldn’t discern exactly what it was… 

 _We have space and time, dear child. Don’t hasten your end. “The whole life of man is but a point of time; let us enjoy it.” You’ll see me again, sooner than you think._  

Then a smile broke out on the woman’s face and she faded into darkness.

 

*              *              *

 

He ran as if his life depended on it. He passed through the town, ignoring the calls of people trying to get his attention. His heart thudded in his chest, slamming against his aching rib cage. He felt himself pushing his body to the limit but none of that mattered. His instincts blared alarm signals, and he had learned long ago not to ignore them when they broadcasted so strongly. 

The sound of a second pair of footfalls met his ears, and he turned his head to find Kaneshi running beside him. 

“Where did you come from?” Norrington asked breathlessly. 

“I was nearby. Groves came to find me.” He gave an exasperated shake of his head. “Leave it to Mako-chan to send us running like this. Silly European girl. She’s probably swinging her legs in delight with a bottle of rum.” 

 _She didn't seem well—_ “I have a bad feeling that will not be the case,” Norrington disagreed. 

They ran for some time before Kaneshi pointed out a prone figure with long dark hair several yards from them. Norrington muttered a curse and ran ahead, fearing what they would find. He called out her name but she didn’t move. Bile rose and he tasted it in the back of his throat as he feared the worst.   
  
He dropped down next to her on his knees and scooped her up into his lap. He felt Kaneshi hit the ground nearby as he tried to rouse her. Her right hand slid down to the ground and caught Kaneshi’s eye. Her eyelids fluttered and when her eyes opened a fraction, he felt the relief in his chest like the quiver of a hummingbird’s wings. 

“My God…Jess are you—” he managed. 

She weakly raised her right hand and Kaneshi’s eyes went wide at the state of her fingertips. Norrington hadn’t noticed yet; he was too engrossed in her features which had crinkled in lethargic confusion at the sight of him. “She had your smile,” she murmured in disbelief before her lids lowered again. 

 _What?_ **_She had your smile._** The fledgling seed of memory of a dark-haired woman, holding him close and reading aloud took root in his mind, and he quickly pushed it away before it bloomed. _It couldn’t be_ , he mused, peering down at her still features. It wasn’t possible. When a person died, there was no way…they could not return in any form— 

“Norrington-sama,” Kaneshi panted, breaking through his musing. Norrington peered at him quizzically. Without a word, he raised her right hand for Norrington’s perusal. Her fingernails were fractured, some all the way to the cuticle, and dried blood stained her fingertips. Norrington shifted to free her left hand from between them and his mouth fell open in shock at its pristineness in comparison. “She must have…?” 

“She’s a strong woman, Kaneshi,” Norrington reasoned, perhaps trying to convince himself more than the other man. “She must…she must have pulled herself up. That is the only possible explanation.” 

Kaneshi stared at him steadily, silently, wondering how that would be possible. As the seconds ticked by, Norrington felt doubt growing. The two men looked at edge of the cliff, down at the unconscious woman in Norrington’s arms and then back at each other as the first drops of rain began to fall.

 


	11. Twins

**10.0** – _Twins_

 

Kaneshi carried Jessica back to the house, and by the time they had reached the doorstep, the three of them were drenched from head to toe. Before Norrington could open the door, Jasper ran out onto the porch, eyes wide with alarm. 

“Master—?” Jasper began. 

“We need to get her inside and changed,” Norrington broke in briskly. 

“Sir, I think I need to tell you something before you go inside—” 

Norrington could not see past his impatience; therefore, Jasper’s apprehension or finding out the reason behind it did not dawn on him. “She will catch sickness if we linger, Jasper. If you will allow us to go inside…” 

Realizing that Commodore Norrington was not going to heed his words, Jasper stepped aside with a grim expression. Norrington allowed Kaneshi carry Jessica into the house first and he followed behind, fighting the unwillingness to approach Suzume to help him after what he had said to her. He knew that he would have to apologize to the older woman, admit that he had been wrong. 

Norrington stepped into his foyer but the form of Kaneshi paused in front of the staircase blocked him from advancing. Irritation crossed his features and he looked into the man’s face as he opened his mouth to ask why he had stopped.  The open shock and grief on the Japanese man’s face stopped him cold. His brown eyes focused on a spot beyond them. 

Norrington followed his gaze and felt all semblance of ire leave his body. 

Suzume had her back turned until they entered; she whirled abruptly and revealed a tear-stained visage. At her elbow hovered a dark-haired young woman wearing glasses.  Her green eyes rested upon her older sister unconscious in Kaneshi’s arms and her lower lip trembled. She took a step forward, and as the light played upon her features, Realization hit Norrington like a ton of bricks. 

“Is that…?” he managed. 

Her eyes rested upon him, and the uneasiness that crossed her features looked uncharacteristic of the woman for whom he had mistaken her. “I… My name is Selene Vargas. I…” She paused, unable to continue for a couple of beats as the enormity of what she soon would utter dawned upon her tired and anguished brain. “I am… Danie was my twin.” 

Norrington blinked. Thunder crashing outside broke him from his reverie. “Kaneshi, please take Jessica upstairs.” 

Suzume stepped forward, avoiding his gaze. “I will take care of her.” She passed Norrington without acknowledging him. The air of her passing by was filled with reproach, and he fought a sigh. Suzume and Kaneshi disappeared, leaving Norrington alone with Jasper and Selene Vargas. 

Selene, markedly shyer than her sisters, fidgeted under Norrington’s gaze. Jasper sensed her discomfort and decided to speak. “Commodore, she arrived shortly before you returned. She…felt it would be best to be near her sisters at this time.” 

Norrington frowned at that. “Miss Vargas, how did you get here so quickly? The voyage from London is at least several weeks.” 

Selene peered down at the floor. “Danie has been dead for nearly five months, Mr. Norrington. I headed here as soon as it happened.” 

This did not add up in his head. Unless someone _told_ her that her sister was dead, how would she have known? Well, there was one other possibility… “Were you there?” 

Selene raised her eyes as tears filled them. “Not exactly.” She stepped forward and her fingers clenched at her sides. “I can’t explain it, Mr. Norrington. All I can tell you is, I felt it when Danie died. It was a palpable, discernable feeling. As a physician, a scientist, I can understand your bemusement. It shouldn’t be possible.” When he said nothing, she inquired, “What happened to Catalina?”

 

 _Catalina? Oh, she means Jessica._ “We are not sure. We think that perhaps she was in a stupor, stumbled over the edge and pulled herself up. We found her unconscious.” 

Selene nodded sadly. “So much on her shoulders.” Brushing moisture from her face, she inquired, “Do you know how it happened?” 

Watching Norrington carefully, Jasper sensed his sudden inability to form words. Wanting to give his master a reprieve from the burden brought by the last hour, he placed a light tap on Selene’s arm. She looked at him, a question in her eyes. “Miss Vargas, I believe Commodore Norrington needs a moment to absorb things in private. Why don’t we resume getting you some refreshment in the meantime, and when he is ready, you two can discuss…” His eyes flickered in Norrington’s direction. “…the recent events.” 

Silently, Selene nodded and allowed for Jasper to lead her down the hallway to the guest room. When she walked ahead, Jasper turned back and addressed Norrington. “Master, is there anything that I can get you before—?” 

Norrington shook his head wearily as he headed for his study. “Please see to Miss Vargas for now, Jasper. You judged correctly when you stated I needed a moment to….absorb things.” 

“Very well, sir,” Jasper said, a bit of weariness in his own countenance.

 

*              *              *

 

Half an hour later, Suzume appeared in the doorway of his study, much to his surprise and distant dismay. He didn’t acknowledge her at first, instead peering intently at the glass sitting on his desktop and the liquid that filled it. He felt exhausted, and his physical aches suddenly felt more pronounced despite this scotch filtering through his system. He understood his next steps but seemed reluctant to take them.  

Suzume must have sensed this, because she spoke first. “ _Gomen nasai._ I’m sorry, Norrington-sama.” 

Norrington looked up in astonishment. He peered up at her serene form. Her face, framed by her dark hair, radiated calm coupled with a faint regret. Her graceful, competent hands were clasped in front of her as if she couldn’t figure out where to keep them. 

“Why do you offer me an apology?” he inquired.   

She sighed. “Because if we had not come—” 

“Jessica would have known,” Norrington insisted with a fatigued, resigned wisdom. “Even if you had waited ten years, she would have known. Like it not, Jess has a very preternatural connection to her sisters, Danie in particular. The loss of her in the world is…” He shook his head, lacking the word. “I can feel the void sucking the life out of my wife, Suzume. So please don’t offer me apology. Offer me a solution.” 

Suzume mulled over the statement, peering at the floor. She opened her mouth to speak but a small voice caught their attention. 

“She needs to bring her back.” 

Suzume’s head lifted and she whirled. Norrington craned his head so he could see around the Japanese woman, but all that was within sight were a set of tiny fingertips and half a face containing a forlorn eye. Suzume knelt down to the speaker’s level and placed her hands flat in her lap benignly. 

“You don’t have to be scared, little one,” Suzume assured her. She extended a hand. “Would you please come in and share your insight?” 

 _Blink._ The fingertips and half-face disappeared. Nothing happened for a long while. Suzume lowered her hand and waited. A minute later, a little girl around eight years old materialized. Dark hair was pulled back, revealing her whole face. She stared at Suzume, then at Norrington with a bit of wariness. Norrington frowned. 

“Might we trouble you for an introduction, miss?” Norrington asked mildly. 

She lifted her chin a fraction. “Mummy told me never to speak to strangers.” 

Suzume bit her lip to suppress the chuckle. Norrington’s eyebrow quirked. “And I suppose it makes no difference that you’re standing under my roof, does it?” 

The little girl responded smartly, “Auntie ‘Lene said that this was Auntie Jessie’s house. And she lives here with her husband Mr. Norrington.” 

“I am your Auntie Jessie’s husband,” Norrington explained. He raised his left hand. “Here is the wedding ring to prove it.” 

Norrington and Suzume witnessed as she stared at the gold ringlet, and realization dawned on her face. The small girl’s cheeks pinked and she grimaced sheepishly. “Oh…are you Mr. Norrington?” 

Norrington fought the twitch of his mouth and kept his face to sterner lines. “Yes, miss. And now that I am no longer a stranger, could we have your name?” 

The girl fidgeted shamefacedly. “I suppose. It’s Shannon.” But then, within a blink, she straightened, nearly hopping with anticipation. “Can we talk about Auntie Jessie now?” 

“Yes, I suppose we can…” Norrington shared a look with Suzume, who nodded faintly. He rounded the desk, and Suzume rose to her feet and led Shannon toward the fireplace where they could sit. Norrington claimed the high-backed chair facing the door while Suzume and Shannon settled in the one opposite. Norrington noticed that the little girl settled briefly next to Suzume before rising to her feet. She seemed restless. 

“Miss Shannon,” Norrington began mildly, “is there something you want to tell us?” 

Shannon’s mouth puckered into a pout. “Anytime grown-ups say that they don’t intend to listen. Or I end up in trouble.” 

“Try us, little one,” Suzume said. “Maybe you could tell us about how you think we could help.” 

Shannon leaned on the arm of the seat and sighed. The sound was foreign coming from a body so small. “I said to Auntie ‘Lene that we could just go bring Mummy back and that would make everyone better and no one would be sad but Abby said that we can’t because she’s in a place we can’t go yet.” As comprehension blossomed in his brain, sorrow flickered in Norrington’s eyes. “But Auntie Jessie could! She can go anywhere!” 

Norrington took a sharply indrawn breath at the thought of Jessica going…where Danie was. “Shannon,” he managed. He cleared his throat and restarted his statement. “Shannon, none of us want Auntie Jessie to go where…your mother is at the moment.” 

Shannon’s lip trembled. “But she could bring her back!” 

Norrington shook his head. “You can’t come back from where she is. No one can, not even your Auntie Jessie.” Mutiny flashed in Shannon’s eyes. As she neared, he noticed the look in her eyes. He had seen it before. _And if there was any doubt she was Danie’s…_ “Shannon, do you know what it means that I am married to your Auntie Jessie?” 

Shannon considered this. “You’re my Uncle?” 

A slight smile briefly curved Norrington’s mouth. “That is partly correct,” he answered. “However, it also means that I love her very much, like your Mummy and your Aunts love you. And if I let your Auntie Jessie go where your Mummy is…” The lump in his throat made him swallow hard. He blinked the sudden influx of moisture out of his eyes before raising his gaze to the small girl within reach. “I will never be allowed to see her again for a very long time. I…” 

A loud sniff from the doorway stole everyone’s attention and caused Norrington to trail off. Shannon turned and Norrington looked up. She stepped gingerly into the room, her steps tentative and unsure. Shannon shot off like an arrow in her direction, and the little girl was lifted and embraced. Norrington and Suzume watched silently until Norrington’s stare flickered in Suzume’s direction. She inclined her head as if to ask, _And you’re waiting for what exactly?_  

Steeling himself, Norrington rose and walked toward his wife. 

The tears he grew weary of seeing ran down her face unchecked. She wore a thin shift and her housecoat. She buried her nose in Shannon’s dark mane and clutched the child tightly. When her husband stopped a couple feet in front of her, her lids raised and her gaze latched upon him. 

“Auntie Jessie?” 

The voice was tiny, just like Shannon’s, but the location and the cadence confirmed it could not be the girl in Jessica’s grasp. Shannon’s head lifted and they looked to the door. The tiny form that occupied the doorway was identical to Shannon except for the color she wore and her demure hairstyle. Norrington blinked in confusion. 

“How…?” he started. 

Jessica shifted Shannon on her hip and held out a hand. The other little girl neared cautiously and unobtrusively. Jessica lifted her onto her other hip with little strain then looked at Suzume, who had risen. 

“I am going to take the twins for a little while,” she told her. 

“I will tell Selene-chan,” Suzume promised. 

 _“Arigato,”_ Jessica said softly. She looked to her husband. “James? Would you come?” 

The _please_ was unspoken, radiating from her eyes. He gave a slight nod, then, thinking better of it, shed his heavy blue jacket. Suzume lifted it out of his grasp before he could say a word. She paused to brush her lips across Jessica’s temple before exiting the room. 

James gestured to take one of the girls. Two pairs of small eyes stared at him. Shannon shifted closer to her aunt, seemingly out of defiance. Her sister slanted a look at her, as if she disapproved, then leaned forward. Jessica looked at the movement with surprise. 

James hefted the child onto his own hip. He felt awkward holding this child whom had no name that he had barely seen. As Jessica turned and led the way up to their bedroom, the little girl peered at him. He could feel her assessing him in her young, supple mind. They ascended the staircase when she cupped her mouth and whispered in his ear.

 _“My name is Abigail.”_  

He paused momentarily on a step and looked at her. Their gazes met for a beat before she looked away shyly. 

“Hello, Abigail,” he whispered back. “My name is James. Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances.” 

She gave a slight, solemn nod in place of a curtsy given her current position. James resumed their ascent, feeling a measure of ease around this child. She, within a few moments, had shown herself to be better mannered and more mature than her twin. He chided himself for judging Shannon so quickly, given the predicament in which they were embroiled. 

When they reached the bedroom, Jessica removed Shannon’s shoes and placed them by the door. Before James could do the same thing with Abigail, the little girl had already had hers in hand. He took them and found her whispered _thank you_ extremely endearing. 

Jessica sat down on the bed with Shannon. She folded her legs and looked at her husband. She gave a slight incline of her head as her brow furrowed thoughtfully. Abigail peered at them, then leaned in to ask James a question. It sounded like, “Could we sit down?” He nodded. When he lowered himself and Abigail to the end of the bed, she hesitated before going to her aunt. He could see the thought cross her face, the idea that it would be rude to leave him. 

“Go on,” he urged gently. She gave that solemn nod again and climbed out of his lap. He observed as Jessica took Abigail under her free arm and kissed her on the forehead. 

“I…I have a multitude of details to explain,” Jessica remarked tiredly. 

“Some of them will keep,” James assured her. “The only thing that concerns me at the moment is you, Jess.” 

Jessica did not utter a word for a while. Shannon on her left clung to her like a barnacle, and Abigail rested her small head on Jessica’s shoulder, more subtle with her attachment. Lulled by the rhythm of Jessica’s fingers caressing her hair, Shannon eventually fell asleep. Abigail remained awake, but so quiet one could forget she was there. To her credit, Jessica didn’t; when she managed to extract herself from Shannon’s grasp, she turned to the quiet child and brushed a lone dark hair off her forehead. 

When she was satisfied with what she saw of Abigail, Jessica turned to James and responded, “It’s strange seeing me like this, isn’t it?” She gave a dry chuckle. “I am utterly falling apart…with no clue how to put me back together.” 

The words drove a lance through James’s heart. He scrambled to find the assurances to soothe her, but instinctively he knew the solution would be much more complicated. Before either could move, Abigail shifted upward and whispered in her aunt’s ear. When she concluded her statement, Abigail assumed her former sitting position. After a couple of humming moments, Jessica’s mouth curved in a watery smile. She scooped up Abigail and hugged her tightly. Abigail smiled too, faintly. 

Jessica placed her cheek on the crown of Abigail’s dark head and closed her eyes. The duo sat like that until Abigail fell asleep as well. 

James quietly rose, intending to leave his wife alone to rest with her nieces. He had almost reached the door when a pair of arms wrapped around his torso, careful not squeeze too tightly. The person was too tall to be one of the twins which only left one possibility. 

“I didn’t tell you you could leave,” her muffled voice came from the vicinity of his shoulder blades.

 You didn’t tell me to stay either,” he shot back. 

There was a windy sigh. “Please stay.” 

 _Pause._ Then: “What did Abigail say to you just now?” 

She released him a bit. He took the opportunity to turn and stared down at her. When she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, he noticed some of the anguish had been wiped from her features. 

“She said,” Jessica began, and placed a hand over James’s heart, _“you are not alone.”_

 

*              *              *

 

The next day, James awoke to find that his wife had risen before he had. Recalling the days she had avoided him, he took in the sight of her absence with resignation. He sighed and swung his legs over the edge of the bed as his gaze fell upon the night table. A folded piece of paper rested on the table top, addressed to him in his wife’s handwriting. 

 _Took the twins, Sel and Suzume to Gaia House.  Do not overdo it and don’t forget to eat. Love you. J._ 

He read it twice before his lips curved in a small smile. She seemed to be doing well enough to worry about his well-being and that eased some of his worry. _Love you._ And the endearment helped as well. 

Several minutes later, James, now dressed, ventured downstairs and found Kaneshi sipping tea at the dining room table. When the Japanese man looked up and spied him, he murmured, _“Ohayou gozaimasu.”_ James had quickly learned that meant _good morning_. He responded in kind and lowered himself to his seat as Jasper entered with breakfast, timing impeccable as usual. 

“Good morning, Jasper,” James greeted him as the older man set a plate in front him. Judging by the contents, he guessed his wife had expressed worry over his appetite. _Don’t forget to eat_. Perhaps the path to normalcy was forged on the act of caring for others. 

“Good morning, sir, Mr. Tsukimori,” Jasper returned affably. “I am sure you are aware that Mrs. Norrington took the ladies out for the morning. She stated they would most likely return around lunchtime.” 

“How did my wife seem this morning?” 

Jasper poured hot water into a teacup. “She seemed solemn, but better, sir.” He steeped the herbs in the liquid as it cooled. “To be frank, you seem better as well.” 

“I do, thank you for noticing, Jasper. I am not completely healed but there has been a noticeable improvement.” 

“When you reach the bottom, there’s no place to go but up,” Kaneshi quipped. 

James raised an eyebrow at him, remembering his wife dangling off the side of a cliff. Not sure if levity was his intended tone, James remarked with the barest hint of censure, “Kaneshi, if things had truly reached bottom…” 

Kaneshi looked at him meaningfully, the emotion in his brown eyes throwing James off balance a bit. “But they didn’t. I am thankful they didn’t.” He lowered his teacup, and sensing the heaviness in the air, Jasper deftly excused himself. Kaneshi watched Jasper leave the room before picking up the thread of their conversation. “Mako-chan doesn’t know but…I saw…her after she had…passed…and my reaction was worse.” 

“Worse?” 

James could only watch in stupefaction as Kaneshi extended his right arm upon the tablecloth. The smooth skin of the underside of his forearm was marred by crisscrossing scars starting just below the bend and ending at the beginning of his hand. As his mind computed the carnage, imagining the wounds that became those scars, James averted his gaze. Kaneshi put his arm back under the table and picked up the teacup with his left hand. 

“Did you…have feelings for her as well?” 

James recognized the look that crossed Kaneshi’s features; he recalled seeing it upon Admiral Merrell’s face back at Fort Hamilton. The loss of love marked a man in a manner a bullet or blade could not. That told him more than the words that he uttered in the next instant. “Yes. I shouldn’t have, and I knew it. But she…had a way of drawing me in. In more ways than one.” He swallowed tea and the tremor in his hand was noticeable as he placed the cup back on the saucer. 

James watched him with a growing sense of sympathy.  As if he understood that James would be unable form a coherent sentence to placate him, Kaneshi added, “But my heart, like my wounds, will heal in time. Mako-chan’s will too.” 

 

*              *              *

 

The days began to take on a rhythm, one that felt comforting to Norrington. Most mornings, Jessica went to Gaia House after retrieving Selene and the twins from Claudia’s before he rose for the day; Suzume only accompanied them if the need arose. She stayed behind in the guise of helping Jasper with some plants, but it was no secret that she had begun to seek out time for contemplation in the flourishing garden. By the time dinner came around, and Norrington returned home from his duties, the girls were exhausted and made little protest when ushered back to their aunt’s house for bed. The women generally retired soon after, Jessica ensconced in sleep by the time Norrington climbed in beside her. 

This comforting rhythm faltered a beat on a night a few days after Selene and the twins’ arrival. Norrington arrived home to find his house in a state of disarray. 

As soon as Norrington eased the front door into its frame, he could sense it in the air. Voices filled with urgency met his ears, but he couldn’t make out any words. He divested himself of his brocade coat and hung it up as his wife came hurrying down the stairs. 

“Jessica?” She looked up at the sound of her name. “What’s going on?” 

She came to him as she caught her breath. On an exhale she responded, “Abby is missing. She didn’t come when we called for dinner.” 

In Commodore mode, Norrington asked, “Do you think she left the house?” 

“There are not many places she would have known to go. Selene is checking at Claudia’s while Kane went to Gaia House just to make sure.” 

Mind calculating possible hiding places as his eyes swept over the expanse, Norrington started forward. “When was the last time she was seen?” 

“Selene said no more than an hour ago after they walked over from Claudia’s.” 

“Then I agree with your estimation, she most likely is still here somewhere,” Norrington concluded. “I’ll assist you in checking the rooms.” 

“Suzume and Jasper started upstairs. I’ll finish down here.” Grasping that Norrington had suddenly paused without any discernible reason, giving no acknowledgement of her statement, Jessica started to walk away but turned and looked at him. “James?” 

He peered at the door of the study like something was not right. After a humming moment, he turned to her, expression reassuring but eyes unnaturally sharp. “I just had a thought. Nothing is wrong.” 

A couple of seconds ticked by but she didn’t press. She gave him a light nod before venturing down the hall. 

Since Suzume and Kaneshi had begun staying with them, Norrington had kept the door to his study shut when he was not in it. Everyone tacitly understood that was solely _his_ space and it was not to be breeched. It was not an issue of trust; Kaneshi spent most of his time out of the house without disclosing with what he had occupied himself, and Suzume had initiated a gardening project in the backyard that took her extra attention, mostly to replenish what she could from she had left behind. He had gone from living with Jasper to living with Jasper, plus his wife, her sisters popping over (he tried mightily to forget Jack Sparrow had stepped over his threshold) and now Suzume Arashi and Kaneshi Tsukimori. The influx of people in his personal space was slightly disconcerting. 

Which added to his irritation when he realized that the study door was _cracked open_. 

Mouth puckered, he pushed the door opened and took one step over the threshold. His searching gaze took in the dark room, playing it up against the mind’s image of its state the last time he occupied it. To his relief everything appeared to be in order. 

Except there seemed to be a spot under his desk that was gleaming like a shiny gold doubloon. 

Norrington frowned at the hardwood, wondering from where that golden cast had come. As the others called out to each other, he tilted his head thoughtfully. 

When he came up on the side of the desk, he spied the telltale lacy hem of a little girl’s sleeve, and realization dawned. He stepped forward and turned his head to see under his desk better without calling attention to his discovery. A pair of wide violet eyes stared up at him with apprehension. She balanced a book that was nearly heavier than she was on her lap. The golden light came from a candle sitting by her elbow. He placed an index finger on his lips briefly, hoping to keep her from making any sudden moves or discernible sounds. 

“James?”

Norrington didn’t even twitch at the sound of Jessica’s voice. Silently the girl pleaded with him not to reveal her presence. He had a flashback to himself at Abigail’s age, doing the exact same thing. For a moment, he was adrift on a memory of being yanked to his feet and his father’s strident tone telling him _not to waste his time on literature_.

_Poetry doesn’t navigate ships, boy._

Jessica took a tiny step forward. “Commodore?” 

His eyes slid in her direction slowly, deliberately. Something in those depths had her stopping short and frowning a touch. To the unspoken question, his eyes flicked downward fractionally. She lifted her chin in acknowledgement then lowered it as she took a step back toward the doorway. 

“She’s not here, Captain,” he said meaningfully. 

“Well,” Jessica began, “we have checked everywhere. I’ll tell everyone to stop searching. She’s a shrewd child. I am sure she has not gone far and will return when she’s ready.” 

“Indeed.” He paused as if to ponder something. “It seems that I have forgotten a document that requires my signature. You can resume dinner without me.” 

She didn’t question the veracity of his statement. She went to the door, and before she closed it, she turned to look at him over her shoulder. The arch of her brow was not feigned. “Do not linger too long, Commodore.” 

The door made little noise as she slid it closed. When he was in relative private, he lowered himself to kneel in front of his chair.  He stared at her for a long while, trying to settle on the right words. Surprisingly, she broke the silence first. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

A faint smile curved his lips before his expression sobered. “Abigail, if you needed time alone, you could have just asked.” 

Abigail looked down guiltily. She idly fingered the spine of the book and Norrington peered at the title. He shifted to sit and extended his long legs in front of him. She appeared slightly anxious of the movement, expecting stern words. Instead, he removed the book gently from her grasp and perused the page she had been reading. 

“I like the quiet,” Abigail said in a soft tone. “And the books. It feels like home.” 

He remembered that Selene had stated they had been traveling for nearly half a year. Five months aboard a ship for a shy bookworm like Abigail had be difficult. “Are you homesick?” She hugged her knees to her chest and nodded. “I do not want you to feel like a stranger here, Abigail. As a person who has traveled the sea for much of his life, I have learned that home is nothing more than a feeling.” 

He handed her the book but she didn’t resume reading. She regarded him in an inquisitive manner that seemed beyond her years. “Auntie Jessie said that you command ships like she does.” 

Norrington couldn’t fight the chuckle. “Your Aunt commanded _one_ ship at a time in the past. Part of the Captain’s charm is that she embellishes a bit.” Abigail smiled faintly at that. Silence fell between them and Norrington’s gaze flickered toward the door. “We should get to the table, Abigail. No reason for you to have a cold dinner.” 

Abigail tensed fractionally and leaned away from him. “Uncle James? Could…could I…stay here?” 

“Stay…here?” Norrington frowned, as he caught an underlying meaning to her words. For a moment he thought she meant her hiding place, but something in her eyes made him wonder— 

The door burst open and startled them both. Abigail’s left arm moved and bumped the candle. In the instant before the intruder’s voice filled the room, Norrington watched as a tiny flame blossomed on Abigail’s left sleeve. He reached out and grabbed her with a speed he barely registered, patting it away before it ate through to the skin. 

“Abby? Where are you? We’re supposed to eat together…” 

Norrington cursed inwardly and cradled the shaking child in his lap. By the way she had fisted her small hand his waistcoat and huddled closer, he realized that she hadn’t just been homesick. This had been avoidance, pure and simple. 

His head whipped around and the annoyed stare he laid in the direction of Abigail’s twin had her stopping short. As she spied her sister in her uncle’s arms, her expression changed from disbelief to indignation. 

“You need go back to your dinner, Shannon,” Norrington said tersely. 

Shannon’s chin took on an obstinate tilt. “Abby should go too. I won’t go if she doesn’t.” 

Norrington’s voice took on that resonance that made men’s knees shake but Shannon stared at him like he was a jack-in-the-box. “That directive was not for Abigail, it was for you. Now—” 

Abigail shifted then, releasing her hold. The hand she placed on his neck to brace herself as she stood stopped his diatribe cold. “’S okay, Uncle James,” she murmured with resignation. Looking especially forlorn with the burn hole in her sleeve, she picked up the book and placed it back where it had been retrieved. She kept her gaze aimed at the floor as she joined her twin. They walked out of the room, but not before Shannon passed him a look over her shoulder of faint triumph.

 

*              *              *

 

After dinner, with the scene in his study with the twins firmly entrenched on his mind, Norrington hastily excused himself and cornered his wife in the kitchen as she brought in the dirty dishes from the dinner table. When he was sure no one was in earshot, he spoke. 

“I would like Abigail to stay with us tonight,” he blurted to her back. 

Jessica placed the dirty dishes aside with a light clatter and turned to him, brow puckered in bemusement.  “Why?” 

 _Uncle James? Could…could I…stay here?_ Aloud he said simply, “Just trust me.”

 

*              *              *

 

“She looks so peaceful.” 

James dressed for bed and Jessica observed Abigail as she slept. At the sound of her voice, James turned from the closet. In a sleeveless nightgown with her hair flowing over her right shoulder as she leaned on her elbow to look down at her niece, she appeared soft, almost maternal. A small smile played on her lips as Abigail inhaled and exhaled. He wondered if she knew how right she looked brushing a stray lock of hair away from the girl’s forehead. 

“They had a fight,” she suddenly revealed. James pulled his nightshirt over his head and turned to her, waiting for her to elaborate. “Today, at Gaia House. Shannon doesn’t react well when she is not the center of Abigail’s attention.” She sighed tiredly. “It’s like Danie and Selene all over again. Even down to the loss of their mother.” Sadness glimmered in her eyes. 

“Danie behaved in the same manner?” He slipped into bed right beside her. “It’s not entirely surprising.” He peered down at the dark-haired girl then up to his wife. “I am going to be frank, Jessica. I don’t have a good feeling about this, especially given Shannon’s reaction.” 

“She just lost her mother,” she pointed out. “I would be a little emotional too if you separated me from my twin sister amid those circumstances.” 

James lowered his head to the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “Let’s carry the hope that it doesn’t get any worse.”

 

*              *              *

 

They both rose in unison without intellectually knowing why, a knee jerk reaction to the impression of impending chaos in the air. It was a sense they had as command, one honed by years at sea and countless skirmishes.

 

As the little sleep they had been afforded left them and the darkness of their bedroom registered, a small voice broke through the fog. 

“Auntie Jessie! Uncle James!” 

 _Abigail?_ Slightly muddled, James frowned at his niece. “What is—?” 

“We have to go!” she exclaimed frantically. “It’s burning. We have to—” 

That shook Jessica out of her shock and she took the girl by her shoulders to steady her. “Slow down. You need to be more clear.” 

“Where, Abigail?” James pressed. 

*              *              *

 

The next movements reminded them both of preparation for battle. Clothes were hastily donned. The troops were roused and messengers dispatched. There was a short disagreement over who would go; he wanted her to stay with Abigail and she wanted _him_ to stay with Abigail. Of course, Abigail desired to go as well.

 

Finally they resolved they _all_ would go. 

When they reached their destination, they paused at the gate in horror. 

 _It’s burning._  

Gaia House was a growing inferno. 

The sound of hysteria assaulted them first; the cacophony of children screaming in fear, in distress, coming from the broken windows. The haze of acrid smoke reached them next and made it difficult to breathe. The first of the children came dashing out, hands over their mouths and eyes watering. They spotted the gleam of a blond head an instant before Samantha appeared holding a bawling Emma with a scarf over her mouth and nose, clad in trousers and a sleeveless shirt. She passed the two-year-old to a passing child before turning back to the doorway. 

“Who would do something like this?” Norrington wondered aloud. 

Thinking the same thing as her fury swelled, Jessica burst through the gate yelling Samantha’s name. She felt her husband and niece follow as her boots crushed the grass. Samantha looked up, startled. 

“Captain!” she cried, her voice hoarse. “How did you—?” 

Jessica shook her head. “That’s not important.” 

“There’s help coming, Samantha,” Norrington assured her briskly. “Who is still in the house?” 

“Gretchen is doing a final check. Some of the kids didn’t respond to the first call.” 

Abigail, who had been quiet thus far, scanned the yard for a particular set of features, face ashen with fright. As Samantha descended the stairs and went to the children gathered by the fence, Abigail pushed away from Jessica and Norrington and ran. The unexpected force made them both stumble. They both peered down, then up at each other in realization before turning to the house.     

“Abigail!” Norrington and Jessica bellowed in unison. 

The little girl made no indication she had heard their voices. Propelled by an influence higher than herself, she threw herself over the threshold and disappeared into the smoke. Jessica lunged forward to follow, perhaps without the coherent thought, but James reached out and grabbed her. The force of his grip working against her forward momentum threw her into his form. Her eyes were wild with helplessness and indignation. 

“God _dammit_ , James,” she swore. “Let me go—” 

He met her blistering fury with his signature blast of frost. “No. Stay here.” When she began to fight his hold, he tightened his grip and gave her a shake for good measure. She stared at him with equal parts alarm and outrage. “Do _not_ disobey me. _Stay **here**._ ” 

With that, he disappeared into the house. 

The span of a second it took her to comprehend what hat just occurred was prolonged due her utter befuddlement, but eventually her rational mind—speaking in her _abuelo’s_ voice—nudged her toward action. Her husband’s directive did not exclude her from bringing order out here. Currently, two more children emerged from the house with her little sister, coughing and grimy. 

“Gretchen!” 

The gasping woman’s head jerked in her direction. Gretchen calmed herself enough to check them then sent them toward their housemates. When she turned back to her sister, she placed a hand on her chest to assuage the tightness. “It all happened so fast. One minute it was quiet, we were asleep, and the next there’s smoke everywhere…” 

Suddenly tired, Gretchen trailed off and her eyes strayed to the patch of grass where most of them were congregated, and Jessica followed her gaze. Many of them were crying, and she could hear a couple demanding to regain entry for a beloved toy. Samantha attempted to bring order but her tone was too placating, which given the circumstances was completely understandable but counterproductive. _Dammit, James would be better at this,_ she groused inwardly. She stopped the thought there before it could germinate. 

Jessica sucked in a breath and her softness away. She placed two fingers in her mouth and blew. 

The shrill sound broke though the din, and everyone turned in her direction. 

“Attention!” she yelled. “I understand that a great deal of you are scared, but your safety is our main concern.” She looked to Samantha. “Sam, Gretch—I need you to gather everyone and make sure everyone’s accounted for. I suggest moving a little farther away. Anyone who is hurt can see Selene or Suzume. Until we can figure out what happens next, all of you stay together. _¿_ _Comprende?_ ” 

“Affirmative, Captain,” Samantha said, and began to carry out the command. 

She exhaled and pressed her lips together before turning around at the sound of Elizabeth Swann Turner’s panicked voice. 

The brunette wore her nightgown under one of Will’s jackets. Her hazel eyes were wide with shock and horror and as her gaze swept the disorderly yard, she seemed to be mentally counting heads. When her gaze rested upon Jessica she sucked in a breath as if to brace herself against bad news. 

Jessica intercepted her before she could go any further. “How long have you been here?” Elizabeth inquired. “How bad is it?” 

“We haven’t been here long. It’s not as bad as it could be,” Jessica assured her. “It seems to have started in one location, toward the back of the house. Most of the kids have been accounted for.” 

Still unsatisfied, Elizabeth craned her neck to make another count. She frowned when she realized some people were missing. The blood drained from her face when she realized who wasn’t there. “Jessica—” 

Jessica nodded sadly, knowing what she was about to ask. “Helen’s still in the house. Abigail went in after her and—” 

At that statement, a loud crack and crash met their ears, and all eyes were on the house. Jessica felt her stomach drop, knowing that Abigail, Helen and her husband had not emerged yet. Ignoring everything else except for the rectangle separating them from the uncertainty of those missing, Jessica moved forward until she had broken out into a run. 

She barely registered Elizabeth behind her until Will called for her to _come back, it’s too dangerous!_ The younger woman barely flinched, possessing no qualms about throwing herself into danger. Much like the Commodore had. No _. No. **No!**_ The word repeated in her head like a litany until it drew itself out into a dull roar in her head. 

Jessica and Elizabeth reached the porch steps and several things happened within a few seconds. The rattle of the fire cart being pulled down the street joined the cacophony, and Groves and Gillette’s authoritative voices ordered the gathering spectators to move back or be served with a serious legal reprimand. 

And then the trio emerged, faces darkened by soot. 

Unwieldy from exertion amid the dearth of oxygen in his former surroundings and the weight of two young girls, Norrington vaulted over the threshold but could not maintain his balance. He twisted his body to prevent falling on the girls as he crashed into Jessica and Elizabeth, and they tumbled to the grass, barely missing the fledgling flower beds. When the coughs had subsided long enough for him to absorb his surroundings, it dawned on him that he was in the middle of a bottom heavy Reckless Female and Commodore sandwich. 

Elizabeth found her senses first. “My God! James!” 

Jessica moaned beneath him as the ache of her back became apparent; she had absorbed most of the impact. Her ass felt like it had been assaulted by a plank. “Bloody hell, Commodore.” He choked out a grunt in response. She shifted carefully from under him and began to look them over for wounds. Abigail raised her head, her eyes jumping out of her small face, a beat before Elizabeth moved to take Helen from Norrington. 

Elizabeth’s hands hovered mere centimeters from Helen’s back when Abigail grabbed her wrist. Elizabeth stared into Abigail’s face, startled. 

“Abigail!” Jessica exclaimed in surprise and consternation. 

“You can’t touch her there,” Abigail said frantically, the almost foreign sound of her voice disconcerting them. Tears pooled in her eyes, accenting the gravity of the moment. “She…she was burned.” 

Elizabeth’s face lost all color. “Helen…was burned?” 

The tremor in Elizabeth’s voice almost broke though Jessica’s carefully constructed calm. Abigail was unable to elaborate further; Gillette ran up to them and burst the bubble. He addressed Norrington first, going wide-eyed at the sight of his superior’s green eyes peering up at him tiredly from the ground. “Commodore—sir—” 

Norrington exhaled deeply. “A moment, Lieutenant. If you would help the ladies…” 

Gillette nodded and went to Elizabeth first, knowing she would protest the least. When she was steady on her feet, he turned to Jessica to offer her the same treatment, but Jessica was looking at Norrington. She shifted her attention to Abigail for just a moment so she could take her into arms. She hugged her and then tilted her head up to look at Gillette. 

“Gillette, please?” Jessica asked, and offered him Abigail. He addressed the dark-haired child in a gentle voice as he lifted her from her aunt’s embrace, but her focus was at his feet. Quite frankly, _all_ their focus was on Norrington. Apprehension snaked up Jessica’s spine as her eyes locked with her husband’s. _He’s apprehensive._ “James,” she began softly. His stare darted downward and to the right where Helen’s head rested on his shoulder. “Commodore?” The firmer tone had those olive orbs settling on her face. “You need to stand. Are you hurt?” 

Norrington shook his head lightly. Jessica frowned at the movement. It seemed as if he were trying _not_ to move. _But why? He said he’s not—_

Realization bloomed in a flash and she rose abruptly, whirling on a bemused Gillette. “Gillette, please take Abigail to Samantha and Gretchen and if they are able to come over, I need either Selene or Suzume.” 

Gillette hesitated as Abigail began to argue in her own subtle way. Will ran up and Jessica observed Elizabeth shake off his attempts to pull her away. _Damned if that doesn’t remind me of someone._ Jessica gave a short sigh. “Elizabeth…” 

“I’m not leaving—” she protested, her tone terse. 

Jessica kept her voice level, didn’t blink. She knew if she met Elizabeth’s persistence with equal fervor they would be two bulls locked in an eternal battle, but nothing would get accomplished. “Yes, you are. For now.” When something flickered across Elizabeth’s features, Jessica added, “Elizabeth, I am begging you. Just for a moment.” 

“She’s right, Elizabeth,” Will agreed at his wife’s elbow, the cool Temperance to Elizabeth’s hot Temper. “The others will be glad to see you, and I think it will ease some of your anxiety. Not to mention, I am sure your father will be here shortly.” 

Elizabeth stared at Helen’s prone form, lips pursed. Jessica recognized the gesture; it was to keep them from trembling because she was fighting the onslaught of tears. She didn’t verbally acquiesce, but she didn’t fight either when Will pulled her toward their friends. 

“I’ll take care of Abigail,” Gillette promised, suddenly very solemn. 

“Thank you, Phillip,” Norrington said from the ground. 

As Gillette walked away, Jessica knelt to her husband. In front of them, the fire cart pumped out water to douse the flames. A group of redcoats cranked the contraption as another group aimed the hose. More of the house crumbled under its own weight and the sound made Norrington close his eyes in exhaustion. 

“I can take her—” Jessica offered. 

Norrington raised his eyelids. “No. Jessica. If you move her, she will get louder.” 

“Louder?” 

Norrington reached up, ever so carefully, and curled his hand around the back of her neck. She blinked in surprise and Norrington guided her downward. She had to shift onto her knees to keep from jostling him. Under the clamor was the soft, heart-wrenching sound of Helen keening in pain. The guttural whine was slightly inhuman and shouldn’t have come from a body that small. Tears sprang to her eyes and her hand instinctively sought the one on the back of her neck. 

“ _Dios Mío_ …James…?” He released her neck and she turned to meet his anguished, fatigued stare. “What happened in there?” 

The pounding of footsteps met their ears but neither felt safe moving. Jessica spied Selene’s feet accompanied by a pair of male shoes she did not recognize. Her sister sucked in a breath and let out a strangled _Mon Dieu_. 

“Commodore?” said a male voice. 

Norrington’s eyes drifted upward. “Dr. Flynn,” he said in manner of greeting, a note of relief permeating those two words. 

“Sir. I came as soon as I could,” Flynn remarked briskly. The dark-eyed, bespectacled man stepped forward and knelt opposite Jessica. She spied the outright pity in the man’s eyes as he visually examined them. He frowned at the sheet with which Norrington had covered Helen. “How bad is it under this?” 

“Dire, I would say, with no exaggeration.” 

 _That poor child._ Flynn’s sigh was imbued with that sentiment. Selene spoke then. “We need to get to a place where she can be examined.” 

“I have a room at my residence that I use to see the gentlemen while we are land-bound.” He stared grimly at the ten-year-old. “The ride will be very unpleasant.” 

“Not if you go slowly,” Selene pointed out. Flynn frowned at her. “I understand that time is of the essence but I would like to spare this young girl any more pain. If we are careful, we can keep it at a minimum.” 

Flynn considered her words, then nodded. He rose and called out for a stretcher. The urgent timbre of his voice produced the requested item with much haste. Groves accompanied the two officers bearing the stretcher. Gillette had taken over overseeing the fire-fighting efforts. 

“Sir,” Groves started, “what do you need?” 

“A carriage,” Norrington responded succinctly. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“No. But as long as Miss King requires my immobility to diminish her pain, I cannot move. She needs to be cared for with the utmost haste.” 

 “Consider it done, sir.” He darted off again, visibly troubled by the sight of that scene. Meanwhile, Flynn instructed the two officers how they were to carefully disentangle their charge from the Commodore and how to delicately carry the stretcher without jostling her body. Selene interjected occasionally with a tip or reminder. If Flynn resented her, he was adept at not showing it. 

A minute later, the telltale clomp of horse hooves met their ears. Norrington looked at Jessica, quickly going tense. She squeezed his hand and squelched the urge to touch Helen. Even a comforting hand would be excruciating.

“We’re ready, Commodore,” Flynn told him. 

He braced himself. “Proceed.” 

“All right, gentlemen. On my count. One…two…three…” 

None of them were quite prepared for the bloodcurdling wail Helen emitted as hands lifted her from Norrington’s body. Jessica sensed her husband go rigid with distress as the shrill sound cleaved through their heads, their hearts. Selene offered soothing words of encouragement and consolation. _You will be all right, sweetheart. You are doing wonderfully. Just hold on._ Helen was only mildly consoled; the pain was too great. Words were little relief. 

The two redcoats moved with the grace of dancers as they placed her in the carriage. Selene was already there to guide them and to offer Helen a familiar voice. Jessica helped Norrington climb up from the grass. They locked eyes for an instant and she could see the plea in them, the words hovering in the open space. 

She didn’t hesitate. “Go.” 

And then he was gone.

 

*              *              *

 

Sometime before dawn, Jessica heard her husband’s empty boots hit the floor. 

She rose sleepily, her head protesting the lack of sleep. After returning home with Suzume and Abigail and coaxing an anxious Abigail to sleep, she had ventured to her own bed, too worn to worry or wait for her husband to return. She had donned one of his nightshirts out of a strange urge to have him near and had collapsed on his side of the bed. The scent of his pillow had kept the nightmares of his darting in after Abigail and lying there paralyzed under Helen from plaguing her fatigued brain. 

Her bleary eyes focused on his tired form slouched in his desk chair. From here she spotted where his shirt had shielded his skin from the soot from the fire. Just under his clavicle the skin appeared untouched, pristine. Mouth set, she quietly rose from the bed and went to fetch warm water, soap, and a soft towel. 

When she returned, he still sat there, but he cradled his forehead in his right hand, elbow on the armrest. His left hand sat limply on his thigh, the gold of his wedding band glinting dully in the burgeoning light. 

She placed the bowl to the side of the chair as she pulled up a stepstool and placed it between his splayed legs. She slid the towel from where it was slung over her left shoulder and submerged it in water. As she wrung it out and rubbed the bar of soap over half of it, leaving the rest to dash away the suds, her eyes searched his face—or what she could see of it. In lieu of speaking, she lightly touched his left hand. He shifted and his right hand lowered. She stared up at him, and a strange glimmer lingered at the lower rim of his eyes as he averted her gaze. She had to shudder out a breath when she saw the tear tracks, leaving his face clean from dirt in their wake. 

He attempted to shield his face but she grabbed his wrist. He flinched and closed his eyes, shaking with heartache. She pressed the warm towel to his left cheek gingerly and it was his turn to shudder out a breath. The tears spilled from beneath his lowered lids and she bit her lower lip to keep herself from following suit. She had never seen him cry, not even a hint of it. 

After what a seemed an eternity, he spoke. His voice, roughened by the tears and the smoke from hours ago, came out so soft she had to strain to hear. 

“When I went through the door, I called out, hoping someone would respond. Then I heard Abigail calling back for me. She hardly speaks. Days go by and she hardly speaks and here she was, yelling for me at the top of her lungs. She had already found her. I am not sure if she was aware of anything other than the agony.” Jessica knew the _she_ of whom he spoke now was Helen. She inhaled and held it in an exercise to keep her calm when he continued. “Most of the time was spent trying to find something to shroud her in, to shield her from the heat. We had wrapped her as the floor gave way in the other room. Abigail screamed because it startled her, and all I could think was, _I have to get them out of here_. Luckily she was already unconscious and not fully aware of what went on around her. Or else...” 

He fell silent then and she switched to his other cheek, rubbing soap and wiping away in firm but gentle circles. Enough to soothe but not distract. She said nothing, waiting patiently for him to finish. _She hardly speaks. Days go by and she hardly speaks and here she was, yelling for me at the top of lungs._ He and Abigail were more alike than anyone had realized. He may have not been yelling but the call of distress was the same. 

“She wept the whole way. At the middle point, she began to plead, begging for us to make the pain stop. As soon as Flynn was able, he did just that. Unfortunately it was not soon enough.” 

He quieted again and shifted to rest his temple on the tips of his right hand, elbow on the arm rest again. She moved to clean under his chin and his neck, realizing the process would go much faster if he was shirtless. 

“James. James,” she repeated. His eyes opened, reddened and drained of all strength. “Arms.” He lifted them limply and she rose to pull the shirt over his head. He lowered his arms and she tossed the ruined shirt aside. She rounded the chair and turned the towel to the clean side as she cleaned his neck and upper shoulders. She didn’t try to fill the silence with inane words or sentiments. She concentrated on the rhythm of her movements and keeping her hands steady. 

However, something occurred to her and she froze. “The white bag,” she suddenly said. 

His brow furrowed in confusion and he lifted his head fractionally. “What?” 

She concentrated on a spot behind his ear and fought to keep the tears from clouding her vision. “When you came out Abigail was holding a white bag.” Memory cleared, and he straightened with remembrance. When he whirled to face her his eyes were wide. She lowered her hands, and the towel hovered in front of her thighs. He eyed her clenched fists then looked up into her face. “Abby said that…the reason Helen was the last one out was because…” 

She didn’t have to finish. He knew where her statement was heading and quite frankly given their current state neither could have borne the words aloud. Fifteen orphans gathered under one roof. What lengths would they go to preserve any vestige of a happy home? Being the oldest, Helen King would have understood that the best. And she would sport the scars for that deed for the rest of her life. 

Heart even heavier, he rose and stopped in front of her. She had schooled her features to blankness but the bones of her knuckles displayed the strain. He said nothing as he pried the towel from her and dropped it into the chair. He led her to bed and removed his soot-stained breeches before climbing in next to her. 

They had yet to completely mend what had been broken by Danie’s death but here and now, none of it mattered.  She curled up into herself facing the wall, weeping silently. She was comforted by the weight of his arms as they came around her, the pull of his embrace as he brought her closer. And by the moisture she felt on her shoulder from his tears. She pressed her mouth reassuringly into his left arm. No judgment would be made here. Not today. Not ever.

 

*              *              *

 

They slept until the intense light of the sun roused them. He awoke first, feeling sore and muddled. He sighed and gritted his teeth against it as he shifted out of bed to don his uniform. 

She stirred at the movement beside her, rolling over as he placed his feet on the ground and stretched, yawning. She stared at his back as he mustered up the will to continue. She could see his grief and fatigue in the set of his shoulders. Dimly wishing she could take his pain, she reached out and clasped his shoulder. 

“I think they would understand,” she remarked quietly. 

He shook his head and she dropped her hand. “That doesn’t matter. It still wouldn’t excuse my absence. There is work to be done.” Intending to protest more, she leaned forward. He glanced backward and stiffened his spine to mask the burden of his emotions. “Upward and onward, Captain.” He pushed himself onto his feet, and she watched as he walked across the room naked. 

She sat with her eyes closed for several minutes. He freshened up with the cold water and the stiff towel before adorning himself in the trappings of his duty. Suddenly frustrated, she opened her eyes and climbed off the bed to dress. Thinking of the work that needed to be done, she reached into the back of her closet for her work shirt and trousers. Her movements were brisk and purposeful as she tucked the shirt tail into the trousers and fastened them. Her fingers deftly fashioned her hair into a long braid. He paused as he adjusted the wig on his head to mask his hairline and watched her. She caught him staring and exhaled slowly. 

“Upward and onward, Commodore,” she merely said, affirming their mutual commitment to continue despite the events of the night before. When they were properly attired, he opened the door and they went out into the hallway together.

 

*              *              *

 

The damage looked worse under the unforgiving light of the sun’s rays. The four of them, without Gretchen, Cynthia and Selene, stood just inside the gate, paralyzed with a despondent awe. 

The house itself was covered in a layer of soot. The windows had shattered in the heat and the charred remnants of the drapes fluttered pitifully in the breeze. They could see the sunlight streaming in through the holes the fire ate through the roof and illuminating the blackened floor and ravaged artifacts of the children’s former lives. The flower beds that had held so much hope and care were reduced to drooping, crumbling blooms. 

“I still can’t believe this happened,” Claudia said sadly, and reached out for Elizabeth’s hand. Mouth trembling with another onslaught of tears, Elizabeth gripped it tightly. 

“Has anyone been inside since?” Jessica asked from Claudia’s right. 

Samantha, standing beside Jessica, shook her head. “Gretch, Cyn and I just got the kids off to sleep. Between asking for updates on Helen and being petrified that they everything they touch goes up in flames, sleep was the last thing on their minds.” 

Jessica sighed, a lump in her throat. “This…I don’t even have any words. They deserve better. That was the whole reason this all started in the first place, to give them better.” 

With that sentiment, silence descended. Firming her mouth, Elizabeth dropped Claudia’s hand and squared her shoulders. They stared at her wordlessly, sensing that something had changed. She picked up her skirts in her hands and shifted her feet purposefully. 

“Well, let’s have a look, shall we?” she said in a determined tone. She looked at them, each of them, until she felt rather than heard their acquiescence.  Steeling themselves for the sight that was to come, the quartet crossed the yard and carefully entered the house.

 

*              *              *

 

Upon arriving at Fort Charles, Norrington sought out the officers who had offered their assistance the night before. He could see the fatigue and burden he felt reflected in their eyes when he thanked them for their diligence. 

He carried out his routine with little deviation until word came, around midday, that Dr. Flynn wished to speak with him. Immediately he feared the worst and the heavy weight of dread filled his belly like lead. 

Outwardly he walked toward his office with deliberate steps and his hands clasped tightly behind his back. 

Victor Flynn, the only son of an English merchant and a Scottish housewife, had traveled from London with them to Port Royal nearly ten years ago and was appointed naval physician aboard the  _Dauntless_  by Norrington's predecessor. Dedicated to his craft after a mysterious tragedy that had left a scar on his chest, and often pursued by insistent young girls with delusions of a great romance in their eyes, he remained unattached and as solemn as a monk. Truthfully, he found himself exasperated by their advances and pointed them in the direction of more receptive waters. 

The man turned when Norrington entered. Immediately Norrington spied his lack of sleep and his mind's disquiet in the disarray of his clothing. Generally Flynn held himself to a better standard of appearance. Norrington could not blame him, given the circumstances. He merely closed the door behind him and lowered himself to the chair behind the desk. Flynn assumed the chair across from him. 

“How…is she, Dr. Flynn?” Norrington asked. 

The bespectacled man mulled over his response, his hands steepled. He seemed torn between the cold, hard facts and a truth that wouldn’t put a grief-stricken, helpless look in the Commodore’s eyes. James Norrington was not a man prone to intense displays of emotion, but Flynn had witnessed him teetering over the brink between the man he had erected for public consumption and the man aggrieved by the sight of Helen King. Having met and observed the Commodore’s wife, he had a feeling that most of Norrington’s fervor lay in the fact that the girl, excepting a few tiny physical differences, recalled a young Jessica Thomas. 

Finally, Flynn said, “Considering the circumstances, she could be worse. Selene has been invaluable in her palliative abilities, and I believe soon she will be able to surmount the pain and be able to withstand being conscious most of the day. I cannot deny she…is irreversibly marked, but…” Something in Norrington’s eyes made him pause and curse inwardly. _No way avoiding it now._ “Since the burns were localized to the back of her body, in likelihood she would be able, once healed, to assimilate into normal society.” 

Norrington pressed his lips together and nodded thoughtfully. After a long moment, he remarked, “She…will never be the same.” 

“Perhaps physically, Commodore, but I think with the right nurturing she will retain her protective and resilient personality.” He paused a beat. “I think she would thrive a great deal in a structured environment. A…happy home if you will.” 

Norrington’s lips parted as if he wanted to speak but no words came out. What Flynn was implying was impossible. It was preposterous. It was— 

As if on cue, the door burst open and a harried Selene Vargas burst into the office, flanked by an apologetic Groves and an exasperated Gillette. She took in the two men formerly engaged in a serious conversation and her cheeks flushed with shame. 

“I…” she managed. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—” 

Flynn frowned and rose; for a moment, the other three watched him as he went to the mortified woman. She looked up at him with a great deal of nerves and flushed more intensely. Norrington’s eyes narrowed a touch at the familiarity between the two. _Selene has been invaluable in her palliative abilities._ Not _Ms. Vargas_. “Selene—what is the matter? Is Helen…?” 

“She’s fine,” Selene responded in a shaky voice. “I merely…need to speak with the Commodore alone. If I can be so permitted.” 

As Selene and Flynn gazed at each other silently, Norrington gave a small nod and said, “You are permitted. Would you excuse us, gentlemen?” 

Wordlessly Gillette and Groves turned to exit.  Flynn said something to her in a low tone, and she averted his gaze and bobbed her head up and down once. He gave her hand a discreet squeeze before following the Lieutenants and closing the door behind him. 

She sucked in a deep breath to gain her composure before turning to him. Staring at her, all at once, Norrington noticed the difference between Selene and her sisters. She existed in silence, a measuring and pensive silence, and she melted into the background. When someone took notice of her, the attention startled her. But when she demanded attention, she was firm and scarily logical. 

The logical faced him now. 

“Commodore Norrington,” she began, her voice firm but still respectful, “I apologize for the intrusion, but I need to speak with you regarding an urgent matter.” 

Norrington nodded slightly. “I suppose this has something to do with the fire at Gaia House?” 

“To be frank, it was a contributing factor.” She sighed then, looking uneasy. “Commodore, what I am about to say, I have never told anyone, including Catalina. I ask for your discretion.” 

He was about to refuse, but the pleading look in Selene’s eyes stopped him. Instead, he cautioned, “I am not sure I am the best person to whom you can entrust such a revelation.” 

“It seems there we disagree. Commodore, you are new to our family and are not intimately familiar with its dynamics. My sisters will not take what I am about to say in the manner I intended it. I can discern you are far too rational for that.” 

Norrington considered this, then said, “Fair enough. Go on.” 

“In light of what happened at Gaia House, I believe that it will only be appropriate that I and Shannon leave immediately. I have already booked us passage upon a ship arriving in three days.” 

Norrington frowned. “And Abigail?” 

“I was hoping you would agree to keep her for a while.” 

He blinked at her for a long moment as the implication of her statement sank into his mind. “Are you asking...that Jessica and I raise Abigail?” 

“Not forever. Just…just long enough for her to flourish.” When Norrington remained silent, she continued. “Commodore Norrington, the day Danie sailed away with Catalina aboard the _Bloody Diamond_ was the best and worst moment of my life. Worst because I lost part of my family, and best…” She faltered then, feeling Norrington’s bemusement. “I didn’t hold any hatred or animosity toward my sister, please know that. But Danie...she cast a wide shadow, and it was cold there in the darkness. When she left home, it was the moment I finally felt the sun. 

“By some poetic justice, Shannon has turned out very much like her mother, and Abigail resembles me so closely that it hurts to look upon her, knowing how my relationship with Danie developed and the ramifications it has today.” She paused and stepped closer. “Commodore, does Abigail speak to you?” 

Norrington raised an eyebrow. “What are you trying to imply, Miss Vargas?” 

“In our world, Commodore, I am sure you have noticed there is a dearth of male figures. To be frank, it will be a miracle if Uncle Richard is still in the land of the living when we return, my father has been dead for years, and I am unmarried. You are the first man I have witnessed Abigail respond to. I don’t want her to believe that the world is only filled with strong women and men should not be trusted. You are an upstanding figure with a great deal of authority, intelligence and patience. Not to mention, she can discern that you are not as averse to her presence as you are Shannon.” 

As much as he hated to admit it, Selene made a strong case in Abigail’s favor. Norrington exhaled slowly. “Give me some time to discuss this with the appropriate parties.” 

Selene nodded. After a moment, she stated, “I believe it might help with Catalina and her grieving for Danie. Knowing that perhaps her influence wasn’t a total failure in that regard will go a long way to getting her back to normal. Please consider that as well.”

 

*              *              *

 

That night, Jessica and Suzume returned sans Kaneshi, who had opted to stay behind to put the children at ease and offer some semblance of protection at their temporary home. Their voices spilled into the hallway and Norrington’s ears perked up. When he appeared, Suzume hesitated long enough to prompt Jessica to frown. She opened her mouth to comment but thought better of it and turned instead. She sobered at the sight of her husband, looking a bit sheepish. “I’m sorry if we disturbed you—” 

“It’s fine,” James assured her. “I actually need to discuss something with you in private.” 

Bemusement flickered in Jessica’s eyes for a moment, but she nodded and then turned to Suzume. “Excuse me for a moment.” 

Suzume merely nodded and the two disappeared into his study. 

This was the first time, outside of their bedroom, that the two had been truly alone since the fire. Norrington closed the door while Jessica hovered in front of his desk, hands clasped in front of her. Her stance reminded him of Claudia in its inherent regality. He wondered why she seemed so stiff. _She’s apprehensive._  

When realization dawned, he paused in front of her and took one of her hands. Her brow furrowed, just a touch. He gestured to the small settee nearby. “We should sit. After you, darling.” 

She lowered herself to the settee and then he sat down beside her. Silence reigned for a minute as Norrington collected his thoughts. Finally he said, “I believe both of us can agree that it has been a trying time for everyone.” Jessica nodded, agreeing silently. “The circumstances have revealed something that perhaps runs deeper than either you or I are aware. Which is why I would like to take action.” 

“What sort of action, James?” 

He gazed at her meaningfully. “I have already expressed my desire to have children with you.” When Jessica stiffened again, he added, “And while I fully grasp your misgivings on the matter, I would like to consider an alternative, a compromise if you will.” He paused for a moment as she looked down and pressed her lips together. “What’s wrong?” 

A sound came from her throat and for a moment he believed it was a sob. Until she raised her head and met his gaze. Her eyes danced with something like mirth, and that sound registered as a chuckle. 

“She came to you didn’t she?” Jessica inquired, voice laden with meaning. It was James’s turn to look away. Jessica nodded soberly to herself, having her answer. “Selene is special in that way. If she had been inclined to travel with me she would have made a great first mate. She can…see things, observe things better than even I am able.” 

“I would not have believed that unless I had witnessed it firsthand,” James remarked as Jessica rose to her feet restlessly and walked toward the fireplace. Her shoulders lifted and lowered as she took a deep sigh. “But there is more to the predicament than what she told me, is there?” 

As she pondered for several moments, he was treated with the sight of her back, the set of her spine. He recognized this; she had, without realizing it most likely, assumed the stance of the Captain in Negotiation. 

“Commodore, you must understand that I would never ask you to do something that would place you in direct conflict with the law, but this time…” She turned then, her features set with grim determination. “I have to plead for your discretion.” 

Suddenly slipping into the Commodore as she had the Captain, he stood and came to her. “Elaborate, Captain.” 

She didn’t even blink. “Shannon set the fire.” 

Norrington paled. She witnessed as the memories of that night rippled across his features. “What?” 

“Shannon snuck out of Claudia’s house and set the fire. It was only supposed to be a prank, she said. But the fire grew and she escaped before anyone could find her.” Her face contorted with fury that she quickly withdrew to regain her calm. “No one knows this except Selene, you and me.” 

No wonder she had come to him earlier that day. He exhaled as warring sentiments dueled inside of him for precedence. “You do realize I am obligated by law—” 

“I am aware,” she interrupted. “And while part of me would love nothing more than for you to throw the book at her for her childish and spiteful behavior, I know that will not suffice as punishment.” 

“What do you suggest? Because she did a very dangerous thing and I don’t believe I can pretend that I don’t possess the knowledge. We are all extremely grateful and fortunate that no lives were lost even though Helen King has been permanently marked for the rest of her life, but there is the willful destruction of property to consider, and that is a serious offense.” She said nothing. Original subject forgotten, he strode toward the door. “I need to discuss this with Governor Swann.” 

Much to his chagrin, Jessica stepped into his path, putting herself between him and the exit. He sensed some of her usual insolence. If he weren’t so annoyed with her he’d be relieved. “Stand aside, Captain. I would not like to have to remove you forcibly.” 

“You will not,” Jessica told him firmly. 

He could not suppress the flare of anger before it burst out of him. “And who are you to command me?” 

“Don’t. You. _Dare_.” Her voice met his with its resonance. She sounded slightly hoarse, as if she had hit a timbre she had achieved in a while. “You will _not_ browbeat me into submission, Commodore Norrington. Do not act like you and only you know what’s best.” 

“And what makes you think that you do?” 

“Because I realize that girl, that headstrong, heedless child, is not merely some person without a heart or a soul. She acted on emotions that an eight-year-old mind would rationalize. Locking her away will do nothing but break her spirit and does not suit her crime. She has time enough to atone for her sins.” 

Suddenly, she crossed her arms over her chest and stepped aside, leaving a clear path to the door. He blinked at the reversal in surprise. “But since you insist, yes. Let us go speak with Governor Swann. Right this very moment.” 

She unlatched the lock and opened the door. As she stepped into the foyer, Jasper emerged from the kitchen. Jessica stalked to the front door and Norrington followed. He could tell from their stormy expressions that their private discussion had not gone very well. He frowned at them and as they passed without a word, he set his mouth in a line. 

Suzume, hearing the door open and close, came down the hallway. “Jasper-san, what happened?” 

Jasper shook his head. “I have no earthly idea, Suzume.” Knowing how well those two battled, he stared at the closed door grimly. “And part of me feels that perhaps I would not like to know.”

 

*              *              *

 

The two of them did not speak on the way to the Governor’s mansion. The silence that had fallen between them was fraught with resentment. She had relegated herself to the patch of seat farthest from him, arms crossed over her chest. He ignored her and focused on driving the carriage. 

When they arrived, the Governor’s butler showed them into the sitting room while he retrieved Governor Swann. In the time which they were once again left in each other’s company, they remained on opposite sides of the room. 

When Governor Swann entered, their obvious discord was the first thing he noticed. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching them with a bit of heaviness. Hopefully, whatever this was would be quickly and painlessly resolved. 

“Good evening, Commodore, Mrs. Norrington,” Governor Swann greeted them amiably. 

They both looked up at the sound of his voice. Norrington opened his mouth but Jessica spoke first. “Governor, we are so sorry for the late visit, but this could not wait.” 

“Yes,” Norrington affirmed dryly, “my dear wife insisted.” He earned a cross look from his _dear wife_ for that remark. 

Governor Swann looked back and forth between them. “Well, I hope it is not serious.” 

“It is a matter of some gravity, Governor,” Jessica responded. Norrington rolled his eyes at her back as she placed herself quite strategically at the Governor’s side. “Could we sit?”

 

*              *              *

 

Sometime later, after the matter had been discussed and the course of action decided, Governor Swann walked the couple to the door himself. The frigid fury they had carried inside with them had evaporated into something a lot more genial. He hoped that their truce held until the events had ensued as agreed upon. 

“This will not be easy,” Governor Swann told them as they lingered in his foyer, “but I thank you for seeking my estimation on this, it is a serious and delicate issue and one, considering the circumstances, that is very close to my heart.” 

“No, we thank you, Governor Swann,” Norrington said sincerely. 

“Yes,” Jessica agreed, appearing much more subdued than she had when they had entered and a bit sheepish. “This could have waited.” 

Governor Swann smiled reassuringly at her and shook his head. “Something as important as this could _not_ have waited.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and her eyebrows furrowed a touch as his expression sobered. “And might I add, despite the circumstances, it comforts me to see you with some of your usual fervor.” He squeezed her shoulder and she blushed. “Captain.” 

The Governor’s words sparked the memories of her grief and left Jessica unable to speak, so Norrington spoke instead. “Thank you, Governor Swann. We will leave you to retire.” 

They bade each other good night, and the Commodore and the Captain left. He helped her into the carriage and she murmured a _thank you_. When they settled in, he noted that she didn’t sit quite so far from him as before. 

The return trip held a different quiet, a contemplative quiet that left the duo to their individual thoughts. Norrington’s thoughts paused on a dime when he felt the weight of his wife’s hand on his thigh, close to his knee. 

He peered at her sidelong. Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears but she stared straight ahead. He said nothing but placed his free hand over hers. The small gestures were large in its value and tiny, deliberate steps toward normalcy.

 

*              *              *

 

The morning of the departure, Norrington awoke to find his wife already awake and sitting against the headboard. 

She had been noticeably solemn the last few days. Upon the first of several visits to Helen, who still resided at Dr. Flynn’s house until he felt she had healed, her perspective had changed on her niece. Norrington sensed that it had altered the way she remembered her late sister as well. While he did not welcome his wife’s unhappiness, he was pacified in knowing that the descent more closely resembled a slight stumble than the endless, heart-wrenching collapse her initial reaction to Danie’s death had caused. 

Unsure if she wanted the intrusion upon her thoughts, he remained silent and waited. 

He started to believe she was unaware of him until she murmured, “I’m sorry.” 

He dimly recalled the day before he left months ago in his office after they had furiously made love. She had unexpectedly apologized then as well. “Why?” 

“I went adrift, so horribly adrift. I should never have asked you to compromise your ideals, your duty to the law. I’m supposed to be the one person in the world that stands up for you and I just…” 

Pondering on her words, he shifted to a sitting position, back against the headboard. The light from outside hovered on the cool end of the spectrum, signaling the sun’s absence but impending appearance. The light gave her pale skin a bluish cast that underscored her melancholy. “Nothing about this situation is commonplace. I am not trying to excuse it, I assure you, but I do have a grasp of your motivation.” 

She sighed. “She’s a child, James.” The anguish in her voice indicated she meant Helen. “Just a child. She’ll never be the same and that bears recompense or else...” 

“As much as I agree, the recompense is not yours to make,” he insisted. “You cannot shield Shannon from what she has done and you shouldn’t.” 

“I know, and trust me, I won’t.” Her eyes drifted to the empty space between them. “I’ve come to realize you were right in your approach. And I was wrong.” 

He raised an eyebrow as disbelief overtook him. “Are you ill, darling?” he inquired wryly. 

Fighting a tremulous curve of her lips, she threw a pillow at him. “Don’t make light of my feelings. Even when they don’t make sense.” 

“Feelings are not supposed to make sense,” he remarked. “We experience them. We’re not supposed to rationalize them.” 

She turned her head slightly toward him, a light smile playing upon her lips. “Like you and me. Some would say that you and I do not make any sense.” She paused and glanced at him. In most circumstances, James Norrington was quite adept at hiding his emotions. To her, the woman who spent nights watching the minutiae of the expressions he made as he talked from across a table, the woman who observed him when he slept, the woman who gauged his every groan and sigh when she touched him, nothing was hidden. Not if one knew where to look. And in this moment, his eyes gave his misgivings away. “But I know, when I look at you, when I think of you, nothing akin to logic comes to mind.” She looked at him and waited until he met her gaze. “You could have run, James. You could have refused my correspondence. But you didn’t. I know I don’t make it easy for you to like or even love me sometimes, and I don’t see myself making it any easier in the future”—his mouth twitched at that—“but I need you to know that I need you. No matter how strong I seem, no matter how much I balk, I need you.” She shifted her gaze back to the window. The first hints of gold rimmed the horizon. “Especially today.” 

When she exhaled heavily, he spied the woe on her features. He too could sense her changes in mood, the meaning behind every curve of her mouth, every twitch of her eyelash. In the split second before he moved, his rational mind reasoned that she would surmount her feelings without any assistance. However his heart disagreed; she just told him bluntly that her strength belied her needs. She needed him. 

So he enveloped her into his arms, ignoring the slight twinge of his almost-healed ribs, and placed his lips on her forehead. 

“And you have me,” he assured her. “You always did.” He cupped her chin as she looked up at him. “At your back, Captain.” 

“At yours, Commodore,” she returned softly. Their lips met tenderly as the first rays of sunshine shined in their bedroom window. She could have taken it further as they had not been intimate since he had returned, but he sensed she was not ready yet. _Small steps_ , he mused, as she tucked her nose under his jaw and took this quiet moment together before the day ensued. 

*              *              *

 

At breakfast, Norrington kept his eye on Abigail, and Jessica closely observed Shannon. Shannon chatted incessantly, directing most of her questions toward her twin. Abigail ate very little and offered monosyllabic responses. Shannon, perhaps overwhelmed by the excitement of finally going home, didn't seem to notice Abigail's disengagement. Over his tea, Norrington stared at Jessica. _Noted, Commodore._ Aloud, she said nothing. 

Selene had gone to visit Helen one last time; as far as the twins knew, she was taking care of some business in anticipation for their exit. Jessica faintly suspected that she also had grown attached to Dr. Flynn but decided not to push the issue for now. When Norrington left, citing that he had to get to the Fort, Jessica followed him into the foyer. Discerning her unease, he grasped her shoulders and laid a light kiss on her forehead, then her lips. _Upward and onward, Captain._ He knew her too well. 

The girls bade Suzume and Kaneshi goodbye before leaving for the docks with Jessica. Suzume had decided she did not want to be privy to what happened next, and Kaneshi had barely spoken a word about the circumstance once Jessica and Norrington had warned him what would happen and why. As they embraced, Suzume slipped a charm into Abigail's hand so her sister would not see. She gave her another hug as a gesture of thanks before climbing into the carriage with her sister and aunt. 

Selene met them at the dock, surprisingly accompanied by Dr. Flynn. Judging from the set of his jaw, and the tear tracks on her face, not only had she said goodbye, but she had told him the truth. Could not tell if he were angry with her sister. 

“Auntie ‘Lene, Auntie ‘Lene, aren’t you excited to go home?” Shannon chattered. “Maybe Nana Evie will let us use her perfume.” 

Selene said nothing, just peered down at her as their luggage was taken away. In front of them, Governor Swann, Norrington and Elizabeth stood with their backs to the water and in the path to the vessel. Shannon froze, starting to grasp that something was amiss. Her terrified eyes took in the stony expressions on the trio’s faces, and when she turned to look at her twin, she found she was not by her side. She was still in Jessica’s grasp. Shannon stood on her own. 

“Shannon Vargas,” Governor Swann began, his voice taking on an official resonance, “by the power invested in me by the King of Great Britain himself, I henceforth banish you from the city of Port Royal for your instigation of the fire that destroyed Gaia House some nights previous.” 

Shannon's face fell, feature by feature. She tried to appeal to them with a blameless look but everyone seemed fixed in their severity. “But-but I didn’t mean to do it! It was only supposed to be small. I only meant—” 

“Your intent hardly matters now, young lady,” Swann returned sternly. “The truth of the matter is that you caused irreversible damage to hard-earned property and a young girl has been scarred for the rest of her life.” Her chin trembled and fat tears rolled down her small face.  “Your youth will not absolve your transgression, whether you grasp the enormity at the moment of what you’ve done or not.” 

She started forward. “But you can’t—” 

Norrington spoke then and had her jerking to a stop as if his words had physical weight. Aside Selene grabbed Flynn’s hand and he accepted it. “Please do not make the error of believing you can protest your punishment. Especially when there is another condition, and one that may be more fitting.”  She said nothing, tears streaming down her face. He was unmoved by them, knowing that another had shed tears of her own. “You will accompany your aunt Selene back home to England as planned and to whatever punishment awaits you there. However, it has been agreed among the responsible parties your twin sister Abigail will remain here in Port Royal as a part of my own household until she sees fit to return to her former home.” 

This had been the hardest part, one over which they had argued fervently the night they had ended up at Governor Swann’s house. Jessica, being her aunt, had wanted to deliver the news. Norrington, armed with the memory of that telling moment in his study, had protested that he would be the better choice. After they had discussed the implications, they all decided Norrington’s delivery would possess the most weight and it would send a long, delayed message to those watching (and there would be spectators) that Norrington’s authority was indisputable, both within his home and outside. 

Shannon launched herself at him, a tearful human projectile, but Selene wrenched herself from Flynn and grabbed her by the waist, pleading with her to stop. Norrington stared down at her, then raised his eyes to his wife across the wood. Moisture shimmed in those olive depths, but he tried not to be surprised by the gratitude. _Thank you for doing what I would not have been able._ The Captain was humble enough to realize when she wasn’t capable. 

Shannon looked back at Abigail, expecting to find her grief and outrage mirrored on her twin’s face. But Abigail surprised them; she stared unflinchingly at her twin, face impassive. Her hands were behind her back pressing her small frame into a rigid stance. It was clear to them whom she was emulating. And like him, the position of her hands hid their trembling. What they didn’t see was the grip she had on her aunt’s right hand. Jessica’s left hand was draped over the girl’s squared shoulder. 

“Abby?” Shannon inquired tearfully. 

And then her voice, high but firm, rose over the din. “Please do not misbehave.” 

It was not goodbye, but close enough. Limp with shock, Shannon was carried away by her aunt as the last call for passengers to come aboard the _Gilded Horizon_ rang out over the dock. Selene gave Norrington, Governor Swann and Elizabeth a contrite look, sweeping her eyes over them before they filled. Elizabeth, having gotten close to and developed respect for her, reached out and grabbed her hand. She looked up sharply to find forgiveness in Elizabeth’s eyes. _Take care._ She squeezed back. It lasted only a beat before Selene strode away and up the gangplank. 

Shannon’s cries echoed over the water, eliciting more than a few stray tears. Elizabeth was escorted away by her father after sharing a hug with Jessica. Abigail remained the most poised of all, at least until the ship sailed out of sight. Her veneer slipped, centimeter by centimeter, until it was a mask of suffering. Jessica knelt and scooped her up in her arms. She held her close as they both cried. Coming closer, the Commodore observed the scene with equal parts relief and sorrow. Jessica turned toward home and Abigail’s blotchy face came into his view as she pulled away from her aunt. 

The girl stared at him, and without thinking overmuch, he reached out and brushed away a tear with his thumb. 

“You did well, Abigail,” Norrington told her in a low tone. “We are extremely proud of you. That was a very difficult thing, letting your sister go.” 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jessica asked. Abigail glanced down, unsure how to articulate her feelings. Jessica brushed a lock of hair behind her tiny ear. “Is there anything you want? Anything that would make you feel better? All you have to do is name it, and it’s yours.” 

After a few beats, Abigail raised her gaze to Norrington and an idea blossomed. She gestured for him to come closer and he frowned but complied. Instead of going into his offered arms, she went for his ear instead. She cupped his ear with her small hands and whispered something. When the request was made, she leaned back and watched him. His reaction began as acute unease which morphed into resignation and finally settled into acquiescence. 

“Oh all right,” Norrington said. “But only for you.” 

Abigail’s answering smile made up for any impending embarrassment and/or distress on his end. 

A few adjustments were made to ensure comfort for both parties and propriety for the little one, but the dark-haired child fit securely upon Norrington’s back.  She rested her chin on his shoulder and locked her hands and ankles in front of her. 

“Ready?” At Abigail’s nod, Norrington turned to his wife. “Captain?” 

Jessica stared at the scene, heart brimming with an influx of feelings: love, pride, longing, hope. _Look at him. A bleeding natural. He would make a wonderful father._ The stray thought had her blinking back moisture from her eyes. He noticed it but said nothing. She would tell him when she was ready. 

“At your back, Commodore,” Jessica responded. They strode off together toward the carriage where Jasper waited to take her and Abigail home.

 

 


	12. Dutchman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple of moments of violence just in case, a warning...  
> * The song that Suzume sings to Jessica is from an anime called Outlaw Star. The song itself is called "Tsuki no Ie." The lyrics I included were not on accident. (An anachronism, but oh well.)
> 
> ** "after what happened last Christmas...": referring to circumstances around Jess's birthday, an Alternateinstallment that I need to finish.
> 
> *** "so we don't have to have that argument again":See "Gillette/Groves."
> 
> ****"all of my breeches will have the seats cut out of them in spite": See "Boundaries."

 

* * *

**11.0** – _Dutchman_

In the months that ensued since Shannon and Selene's departure, things shifted in the Norrington household. With the new additions, the Commodore decided that their current space could not accommodate everyone. Shortly after his birthday that January, he and his wife went house-hunting. With military-like precision, the duo found a slightly bedraggled house a little further out of town at a reasonable price. With Samantha's carpentry skills, Kaneshi's artistry, Will's blacksmithing and the assistance of the Gaia House children's many though small hands (under the direction of a healed Helen King), the renovation of their new house moved faster than they expected.

At sunset on a cool April evening, the Commodore stood in the front yard, watching as his wife, their friends, and family put the final touches on their new home. Will Turner chattered with Kaneshi about the hinges he was putting on the front door, his voice and face radiating an artisan's pride. Suzume discussed the flowers she had planted in the front yard with Elizabeth and Claudia. Samantha, Gretchen and Jessica oversaw the unloading of the last of their belongings by the children.

When she caught sight of him, the world paused on the weight of her gaze. He had been away for a few weeks on assignment, and he found returning to Port Royal more satisfying than before she had entered his life. Moments later, she shoved the box she had been carrying in Gretchen's arms and lifted her skirts. She moved expertly and quickly around everyone and across the yard. He braced himself for impact, but she surprised him, instead she circled him and embraced him from behind. Warmth spread as she brushed his ear with her lips in greeting.

"Coming along isn't it?" he murmured.

She chuckled. "Darling, you are the _King_ of Understatement. We're done. It's finished."

Surprise took over James's features. "What? Honestly?"

"Take a look at the splendor, Your Majesty." She stepped to his side and put two fingers in her mouth. The whistle cleaved through all conversation and play and everyone looked at them. "Lieutenant King! Lieutenant Vargas! Front and center, please." Helen and Abigail, barely containing their excitement, came forward. They paused in front of James and Jessica and saluted crisply. Jessica and James returned the salute. James found himself very impressed with the girls' form and mildly disappointed he could not recruit them in a few years. "At ease, Lieutenants. I have a very important mission for the two of you. Would you be up for the task?"

"We serve under your command, Captain Norrington," Helen remarked. "We are ready for anything and everything you ask of us." Jessica's mouth twitched and she shared a satisfied glance with her husband, who shook his head very faintly. Of course she would milk the whole _Captain Norrington_ thing for all it was worth.

"I expected nothing less from you two." Jessica gestured to her husband. "Would you be willing to present to the Commodore the fruits of your labor?"

Helen broke form for a split second, not able to suppress her excitement. "Would we?" Jessica tilted her head and the child cleared her throat. "I mean, yes, Captain. As you wish."

Abigail spoke then. "Would you accompany us, Commodore Norrington?"

"Of course, Lieutenants. Lead the way." He threw a look in Jessica's direction before walking off and she merely smirked. Yes, he was glad to be home.

* * *

Later on, when they were settled in their new bedroom, Jessica sighed suddenly, making James frown.

"Jess? What's wrong?"

Jessica disentangled herself from his arms and rose to a sitting position. Her long mane of dark hair framed her face and coupled with her uneasy expression made her look younger than a woman of nearly thirty. She folded her legs under her, and her knees were hidden under her long nightgown.

"I've been thinking about something," she began. "It's completely far-fetched, and I don't expect that you will consent to this, but..." She paused to exhale. James shifted into a more upright position himself. "I have been thinking a lot about the discussion we had about...children." James nodded thoughtfully, waiting for her to continue. "Over the past several months, as I have spent time with the children of Gaia House and Abigail, I have found myself coming to grips with the concept of being a mother. You know I am uncharacteristically unsettled with the idea. However, lately I have found myself…" James slowly leaned toward her, eyes filling with something bordering on hope. "…entertaining the possibility more seriously."

"You mean…?"

"Am I wanting to recruit a couple of deck hands onto our fair vessel? I…think I am ready now."

Trying mightily not to show how much this pleased him, he crossed his arms and gave her a bland look. "And allow for me to guess: our children won't call you Mother. To them you'll be Captain Norrington, I'll be the Commodore, and we'll have a house full of Lieutenants."

She hit him with a pillow as he smirked. "You may find that amusing, sir, as if I would jest, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

He placed a hand on her thigh and traced wide, idle circles on her nightgown. She raised an eyebrow at the look in his eyes, a subtle come-hither look that she found endearing. "When were you wanting to commence said…recruitment?"

She tossed the pillow aside and climbed into his lap. He found his attention wavering fractionally as her warmth radiated through the cloth of his nightshirt between them. "The part of this that I would like for you to consider is a bit…different than we originally discussed."

He inclined his head. "Different? In what way?"

"Well…" She peered at him hesitantly. "The effort wouldn't be so much physical…but legal."

As he tried to calculate her meaning, his eyes searched her face for clues. She stared at him wordlessly and then gave the slightest of nods. He leaned forward again, his hands grasping her hips, and his features slackened with astonishment.

He inquired in a grave tone, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She answered, "Only if you are on board, Commodore." She placed her hands on his shoulders and fixed him with a penetrating stare that underscored her sincerity. "We are a team. I know sometimes it doesn't seem I understand that, but this time your approval has never been more important." Her hands slipped down and she clasped them between them, trying to assume more resolute stance. "So lay it out, darling. Pros and cons."

They'd had a similar talk about finding the new house. He had admitted to her that he appreciated the process, so she promised they would utilize it more often. "All right, Captain. Pros and cons."

* * *

The next morning, the Commodore and Captain outlined their plans with their sole Lieutenant during breakfast. Everyone else was occupied in other parts of the property, so the discussion happened in relative private. At the end of their private discussion, they had agreed there was one last person that had approve of their venture before they advanced to the next step.

After hearing the proposal, the violet-eyed Lieutenant Vargas peered at her superiors over her tea and gave a solemn nod in agreement.

The Commodore and the Captain shared a look. The Operation was a go.

* * *

Jessica invited the extended family over for a huge dinner once Helen King legally became an official part of their new household. She planned the meal meticulously, making sure to include all of Helen's favorite dishes and include any touches that would make her feel at home.

The night of the dinner arrived with clear skies and balmy breezes. Jessica was thankful for the weather conditions as she had decided to have the dinner outside in the backyard. Kaneshi and Will had rigged a canopy to go over the splendidly arranged table, and with the light from candles and lanterns, she had achieved an intimate, elegant atmosphere.

She was arranging the main course on one of the trays when she felt a kiss on her temple. Her lips curved into a smile.

"We have to be more discreet, my husband could catch us," she quipped.

"I beg your pardon," James began, not exactly catching her joke.

She laughed and turned to face him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She rose on tiptoe to place a light kiss on his lips and then pulled back to stare at him. "Darling, are you here to assist? If not, then go entertain our guests. You're distracting me."

His eyebrows rose. "And how am _I_ a distraction, Mrs. Norrington?"

She gave a lazy shrug and placed a hand on his chest. She lifted it to trace the embroidery on his ecru-hued waistcoat. "Well, you _are_ out of uniform this evening, and perhaps it's because I'm thinking about how satisfying it would be to—"

A cry of pain came from the doorway, and the duo turned abruptly to find Kaneshi with a hand over his eyes and reaching out frantically with the other. "My eyes! Your disgusting show of affection has burned my eyes!"

Both the Commodore and the Captain rolled theirs but disentangled themselves.

"This going outside now?" James asked in a business-like tone, gesturing toward one of the trays.

"Please," Jessica responded, and he hefted it to take away. Kaneshi, now leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, shook his head at James as he passed. Jessica picked up the last tray and crossed the room.

"The only thing saving him from losing his manhood for pawing all over you is the fact that he seems to be an honorable man," Kaneshi informed her.

She slanted him a look as he fell into step beside her. "As much as I appreciate the protectiveness, I would appreciate it greatly if you would leave him alone in that regard. Not only can I handle myself but…" She paused to watch him interact with Helen and Abigail, a soft, adoring smile on her face. Helen had a pinched look to her features as she stated she hated wearing a dress, and James smoothly explained how this was like a game and the gown was her uniform. She seemed to like that better. "I think I might like to have that man's children someday."

Kaneshi looked distinctly green. "Please do not mention coupling in the context of you and the Commodore. I would like to retain my appetite this evening."

She gave him an impish grin, olive eyes twinkling. "So then I suppose you don't want to know what I plan to do to him tonight when everyone is asleep—"

Kaneshi cursed loudly in Japanese and strode outside shaking his head. Suzume scolded him for being disruptive as he plopped down fuming into his seat next to Gretchen. Jessica's sisters and Elizabeth laughed while Will and Governor Swann looked perplexed. James just stared at her sternly; he knew his wife had been responsible for Kaneshi's outburst. She returned the look serenely, not saying anything as she passed with the second entree tray.

The Captain and Commodore were at opposite ends of the long table. To Jessica's right were Suzume, Governor Swann, Jasper, Abigail, Kaneshi, Gretchen, and Samantha. To James's right were Gillette, Cynthia, Groves, Helen, Claudia, Elizabeth and Will. James and Jessica both passed the dishes to their right and the passing concluded when they had received the platter from the other end.

The Commodore and Captain watched the guest of honor carefully. After she had surmounted her discomfort over the foreign clothes, Helen seemed to enjoy herself a great deal. She and Abigail laughed at tales from Groves while the other adults conversed around them. Jessica noted that Claudia added a teasing comment toward the Lieutenant here and there, and when the two adults looked at one another, something hummed between them.

When James caught Jessica's eye, he raised his eyebrows in question. She raised a single eyebrow and nodded toward Groves, Helen, and Claudia. His gaze slid in their direction and he watched carefully. The ghost of a smile flirted with Claudia's lips. He recognized the look in Claudia's eyes for he couldn't see Groves's face very well. He leaned back into his chair, frowning, and looked to his wife. She raised her glass and passed him a knowing grin.

After the main course had been completed, Jessica nodded at Suzume and Cynthia, and the trio rose to gather the empty plates. In the kitchen, Cynthia separated the plates and silverware while Suzume and Jessica uncovered the cake. Suzume pressed the candles into the icing. Jessica handed Cynthia a stack of clean plates with forks and the blonde left to go pass them out.

Suzume placed the last candle and nodded approvingly. Forcing herself to inhale and exhale as excitement fluttered in her belly, Jessica grinned like a child and struck the match. She lit the candles one by one. When they were all aflame, Suzume squeezed Jessica's hand. The two women shared a look over the flickering light before Jessica picked up the cake to carry it out.

They returned to the table, walking carefully. Cynthia was lowering herself into a chair when Jessica and Suzume appeared. She grinned and nudged Gillette as if to say, _Look!_ He gazed in the same direction and uttered a soft exclamation. As the others noticed what was happening and the chatter ceased, Jessica paused off to Helen's side. She smiled down at the young girl and placed the rectangle of cake in front of her.

A slight frown marred Helen's brow. "You baked this for me?" she asked incredulously.

Jessica knelt down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't act so surprised that a girl such as yourself is worthy of such a gesture." She peered into the girl's face earnestly, moving an errant auburn curl. "I know it's not your birthday, and it's not Christmas—but this day means as much to us, even more in some aspects."

Her mouth twisted into a smirk as an idea blossomed in her head. "And it turns out that the Commodore told me earlier in the evening he wanted to say a few words."

She turned to him and raised her brows. His eyes narrowed fractionally, but he wouldn't back down from a challenge. Clearing his throat, he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. As he smoothed out his waistcoat, Jessica peered across the table at Abigail and gestured for her to come over. Abigail vacated her chair and swiftly rounded the table. Jessica secured Abigail under her other arm. When she was settled, they looked to the Commodore like the rest of the guests.

"I suppose I had better keep this short, because wax has an awful aftertaste." James paused as the chuckles came and faded out. "The journey of life is adept at showing us that nothing ever goes as planned or as intended. When I came to Port Royal aboard the _Dauntless_ thirteen years ago, I had a list of things I wanted to achieve. No, I haven't achieved everything on the list, and please do not ask me to disclose what remains.

"As I look around at the faces of those who have come here to celebrate with us this evening, I realize one thing that I have attained, whether it was by design or not, is a group of people that I consider family." He quieted then and gestured to his wife. "Most of you are here because that woman right there brought you with her, and at first I wondered why she didn't leave you at home." Gretchen snorted and that prompted laughs from everyone. "As time has passed, and some of you became less vexing"—"You're welcome," Kaneshi quipped at that moment and more laughter ensued—"I realize that she considers you an important part of her life, and in sharing you with me, she has given me the means to build something of my own." He looked to the girls then, affection in his gaze. "Abigail, Helen—do not believe that you exist within this house solely because of the Captain's influence and affection. In truth, I regard you both very highly, and I believe you both deserve a loving home. Not to mention, I am eager to witness you grow up into the fine women I know you will be."

Cynthia sniffled loudly then, and Gillette wordlessly handed over his handkerchief. She blew her nose noisily, and Claudia and Elizabeth had to fight the tears from bubbling up.

"And to that end, it's probably a good time to blow out the candles before they completely melt," James said, feeling a mite awkward with all of the emotions he had stirred up.

"That was _definitely_ short, Commodore," Samantha teased. "At this rate I might as well chew on a candle."

"Oh hardee-har-har," James countered sardonically.

Jessica nudged the girls closer to the cake. "All right, Lieutenants. On the count of three. One—"

"Can I make a wish?" Helen interrupted.

Something about that statement made tears spring to Jessica's eyes. She squeezed the young girl's shoulder. "Of course, you can." Helen smiled at her, her expression pure and devoid of insouciance. Jessica looked back to the cake. "Here we go… Everyone on the count of three _—_ "

They all joined in the count, jubilant voices raised in unison.

_One—_

_Two—_

* * *

Miles and miles away, on a ship with a crew pressed into unearthly servitude, a dark-haired woman struck a match for the third time to light her lantern.

The air was damp and she feared the fire would die again. She slid her tongue between her teeth and kept her hand steady. The tiny flame flickered to life, and she carefully applied it to the wick inside the glass. She held her breath. Moments later, a tiny globe of golden light filled the dreary space.

Satisfied, she closed the glass door to protect the flame and lifted the lantern, handle-first. She glanced around the cramped room, eyes sweeping over the hundreds of books stacked up against the wall she had been given during her stay and over the small table and chair she had, and wondered where her timepiece had gone. The dull gleam of the circular metal showed upon a nail above her tiny bed. Crossing the wood to retrieve it, she checked the tiny watch she was bestowed nearly a decade ago.

It was 11:56. _Nearly midnight._ In four minutes, she would be freed from these confines to make her rounds.

She went to the stack of books and chose the one she had begun reading the evening before. Her worn shoes made little sound over the swish of her second-hand rust-colored gown. She wrapped herself in a dark cloak on her way upward, attempting to ward off the clammy chill that had settled into her bones. She ignored the skeletons in the walls, the grime that covered every surface of the ship, no matter how hard they scrubbed.

Thirty-three years of drab, damp, and dirty became the norm after a while.

She reached the upper deck on the stroke of midnight as if like magic, and the breeze fluttered a few tendrils of curly dark hair that had gotten loose from her sedate bun. The _clink-clank_ of the chain links binding her to the vessel hitting the wood heralded her approach.

A group of crewmen surrounded a makeshift table, in the midst of a rowdy game of Liar's Dice. They paused in their argument and greeted her as she passed. She greeted them back with an undertone of affectionate censure, much as a mother would. Their unnatural forms, much like the décor, no longer shocked or repulsed her.

"Good evening, ma'am." The rough voice of Jimmy Legs from the wheel had her turning. The bo'sun frightened her a great deal when she had first come aboard; his form was absolutely terrifying, but after being exposed to the sight for such a long time, she found it only mildly off-putting. The more she learned about these men and their curse, she more she was inclined to treat them like they were human.

"Good evening, Jimmy," she returned. "Uneventful night so far?"

"Quiet as the depths," Jimmy responded. That meant they hadn't come across any other ships that evening. She was secretly thankful; coming across vessels containing men close to death inspired thoughts of the little boy who had grown up without her to command a ship of his own. She feared the day she would discover his face among them.

She turned away and nearly ran into Maccus, the ship's first mate. He was one of the few among the crew of the vessel that she was sure loathed her presence. Time had taught her not to mind.

"The Captain requests your presence in his quarters," Maccus told her with a sneer.

_Oh did he?_ she mused, but outwardly she merely gave a responding nod. As she picked up her skirts and began to turn, Peabody, a recent addition to the crew, lumbered up with a hopeful expression.

"Will you continue with the book if you have time?" he inquired.

She had been reading a group of them _Gulliver's Travels_ for the past several nights. She opened her mouth to respond, but Maccus glared at Peabody and he scampered away. Tight-lipped, she laid a fulminating glare upon Maccus, shaking her head as she walked away.

The Captain's quarters were located almost directly above her head. Some nights, before she was able to roam free, she could hear Davy Jones playing heart-wrenching ballads on the gargantuan pipe organ. It was covered in coral as if the sea rose up and sought to claim the instrument, but gravity was being stubborn about allowing Her to possess it. She suddenly realized that the entire ship was similar in that matter _—_ of the sea but reluctant to be consumed by Her.

He was playing again at this moment, and for a beat, she permitted herself to be sorry for him. For _only_ a beat _—_ and then she pushed open the double doors separating the Captain from his crew.

He didn't turn as she entered. She walked down the middle of the large, open room, lantern and book still in her grasp. She watched his form undulate on the bench with the rhythm of the music, and the tentacles that dangled from the lower part of his face like a beard danced over the keys.

"Well, well, well—if it isn't the Librarian of the Underworld."

She raised an eyebrow, choosing not to respond to the scorn in that comment. "You rang, Captain Jones?"

He didn't spare her a glance. "Make yerself useful, Librarian. I'm in need of my pipe."

She didn't even question the order. She went to the small cupboard and removed a jar that contained his pipe tobacco. The creature that was Davy Jones confounded her. He had treated her mercilessly when circumstances initially landed them in each other's acquaintance, locking her away in the small room she came to make her domain. Those who had felt a bit of pity for the pale, dark-haired woman who seemed to be exempt from the curse that afflicted them had smuggled her things over the years until suddenly Captain Jones began to notice her.

Their dynamic developed into begrudging acceptance. He had witnessed her parting with her son, the most beloved person to her in the world and understood her pain. She heard, through lore and legend, that he had suffered a great tragedy as well.

Enough that he took out his own heart.

Most of this she had learned from the crewmen. Some of it she picked up from stories she had been told. The rest she had learned by observation. A creature bereft of any feeling would _not_ be playing a tune that made the listener want to weep.

She prepared the pipe how he liked it and set it where he could retrieve it. As she turned away to replace the jar, he spoke again.

"It confounds me that yer still in my midst, Librarian." The weighty tone of his voice indicated that he did not merely mean her presence there at that moment.

"It's not as if you've made it easy for me to leave," she shot back wryly, lifting the sullied hem of her gown to reveal a pale, bruised ankle embraced by iron. His eyes flicked down toward the clinking metal before he grunted and went back to playing. The eerie chords filled the room again, and she crossed the grimy wood in her damp shoes.

"Ya must wonder how he's doing." She glared at the jar of tobacco, wondering what possessed him to antagonize her this evening. "After all, he's yer only son. I saw how much ya loved him the moment ya put _his_ life over yours."

She whirled, green eyes filled with irritation. Not matter how much it seemed he tolerated her after all this time, he never tired of jabbing her with the idea of her only child. "Tired of my company already, Captain? If you want me to leave, just say so."

The music abruptly ended again, and in a flash he was in her midst. He was so close his tentacles brushed her arm.

"Would ya like me to release ya from our bargain, hmm?" His gaze was penetrating but she forced herself not to waver underneath it. "The choice to set ya free is no possession of mine." His cold claw took her hand and opened her palm. Her skin was so translucent the veins underneath showed like hundreds of tiny rivers on a map. She tried not to be horrified; the longer she remained aboard, the paler and more ethereal she became. "It's here, in ya palm, waiting to be taken." He leaned in closer. "Do ya want to be free?"

She was not dense; if she said yes, she would depart this Earth for good—and her son would take her place. The past thirty years would have been for nothing. She preferred being propelled by a purpose. The ultimate purpose. To give life to another.

The image of a six-year-old face filled with anguish and terror surfaced in her mind's eye, but she banished it quickly. _What I wouldn't give to see him again—_

He hissed her name, rolling the Rs as if savoring the texture of them on his tongue, and snapped her from her reverie. She slipped her hand from his grasp and reached for the pipe to hand him.

"I am a woman of my word, Captain Jones." She lifted her chin, a silent gesture of challenge. "Our bargain, as it did yesterday and will tomorrow, still stands." You won't rid of me that easily."

He placed the pipe in his mouth and bit down on it, his teeth making an audible click. A moment later, he blew a cloud of smoke into her face. She choked on the acrid smoke.

"We shall _see_ ," he declared, and then stomped away.

* * *

Once the guests had finished with cake, Governor Swann excused himself to return home and James walked him to the door. Filled with sugar, Abigail and Helen experienced a rush of energy. Luckily Gretchen, Samantha and Kaneshi were spry enough to take them on. Jessica moved to clear the plates but Cynthia insisted she and Gillette would take care of them. Jasper was already cleaning the kitchen. Suzume was telling a story to Groves, Claudia, Elizabeth and Will that included elaborate gestures and funny voices. Jessica chuckled at the loud laughter coming from Elizabeth; she'd had a mite too much wine that evening.

She felt arms encircle her waist and she exhaled.

"This was a good idea," she said aloud.

"How'd you know it was me?"

She shifted to look at him. "James. Really? Like I wouldn't know the feel of my husband." He flushed a bit. He was so adorable. She liked making him blush. Certain thoughts in mind, she turned her body until they were facing one another. "And speaking of…" She rose on tiptoe to brush his lips with hers. The contact was so slight, she heard his breath catch. "I would like to demonstrate my knowledge of your dimensions sometime soon."

He flushed even more intensely. "I hope you mean after everyone leaves, Captain."

She shrugged. "Or now, if you'd like. I don't think they'd miss us if we made it quick."

"Jessica Catherine—" He was mortified, especially with Gillette and Groves nearby. He had just gotten everyone to stop looking at him strangely after what happened last Christmas—or rather, what everyone _thought_ happened but had judged correctly because they had unknowingly confirmed it.

She raised a hand in submission. "Okay you win. When the guests are gone, and not a moment before."

Over her shoulder, James noticed Groves glance in their direction and smoothly assumed a more sedate position. She frowned as he stopped at her side and placed his hands behind his back. She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at him.

"You _do_ realize when you act like that, it makes them more suspicious," she informed him.

"Well pardon me for trying to maintain some level of decorum." Suddenly she relaxed her features into a half-smile, her eyes dancing with some parts mirth, and some parts another emotion he couldn't discern. She stared at him for a long time, and the longer she was silent, the more confused he became. He gave her a questioning look, and she leaned in to whisper his ear.

A moment later, his eyes went huge.

"Truly?" His voice was soft, disbelieving.

"Would I lie, Commodore?" she countered calmly.

Turning away from his wife, he abruptly bellowed that _it has been wonderful but now all of you need to go home_.

Jessica hastily broke in with thanks, and the duo exchanged farewells with their guests. When Kaneshi passed by with a horrified expression, Jessica had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

* * *

The girls had been tucked into their beds, the dishes washed and put away, and the scene outside tidied except for the tables they had pushed together to accommodate everyone and the canopy; Kaneshi and Jessica would take that down in the morning after breakfast.

Suzume had long retired to her cottage at the edge of the yard, and Kaneshi had ascended to his attic domain. Jasper and Jessica had put the dirty tablecloth and the napkins away to be washed while James had read to Helen and Abigail. All the while, Jessica's admission floated around in both their minds.

She finished first. She went to peek in on Abigail and Helen and found him there, sitting in a chair between the two beds, back to the door. Both girls were sleeping. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, startling him a bit, and she stepped past him to place a kiss on their foreheads. When she straightened, she turned to James and held out her hand to him. He raised his eyes to her hand before he slipped his around it and allowed her to pull him out of the chair. She drifted out. After a minute, he followed.

When he had settled their bedroom door into the frame, he found her waiting for him. He partially undressed and joined her in their bed. She rose to meet him as he leaned down to kiss her. The meeting of their lips was tentative, fraught with nerves.

When they were both slightly breathless, he pulled away slightly. The open hope in his eyes clogged her throat. It hurt to breathe. _Are you sure?_

A mere nod. All she could manage.

He pulled her into his embrace and shifted her under him. Through the thin cloth of his shirt, she felt the thud of his heart. She exhaled to slow her own. _I'm sorry if this is not the best—_

He silenced her with a chaste kiss on her lower abdomen, below her belly button, where he hoped with all his heart a miracle would take place that night. _If you are ready, that is all that matters._

He lifted the shirt over his head and melded his body with hers. There were no more words.

* * *

They were awoken three hours later by the sound of pounding on the front door.

"What _—_?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Stay here." More alert than she was, he had disentangled himself from her and threw on something to look presentable. He disappeared, and in the cold the absence of him left, she began to awaken and dress herself. She went out into the hallway and paused at the railing. She listened to the terse exchange her husband had with his Lieutenants, who appeared as startled from their sleep as he did.

To her right, the girls' door creaked open. She turned abruptly toward the sound and found Abigail looking at her apprehensively.

In a swirl of bedgown, Jessica went to Abigail and eased the door open as Abigail stepped back. Jessica closed the door behind her so that their focus would not be on whatever was going on downstairs. She scooped up Abigail and went to Helen's bed. Helen had her knees to her chest and was visibly shaken. She came quietly when Jessica held out her free arm to her.

They sat like that for several minutes. She heard the door open and close downstairs, and a few moments later, her husband's footfalls as he ascended the staircase. When the door opened, she shifted toward it, thinking it was the Commodore. Instead, Kaneshi tiptoed into the room.

_"Are they okay?"_ he asked in Japanese. She nodded. _"What's going on?"_

Before she could answer, the Commodore, fully dressed, appeared in the doorway. His expression was grim. She couldn't suppress the urge to see him off. She excused herself, and Kaneshi picked up the duties of comforter smoothly as the situation allowed in her absence.

She followed him downstairs, outside, and on the path to the horses that were waiting to take them to Fort Charles. He felt rather than saw or heard her approach. He motioned for Gillette and Groves go ahead. The Lieutenants mounted their horses and departed without any question or hesitation.

They stood in the moonlight, staring at each other. Heedless of watching eyes on their silhouettes, James slid a hand upward to cup the nape of her neck. Grasping her firmly, he brought her forward and pressed his lips to hers. His other hand ended up around her waist. Her hands inched up his back, under the blue brocade, relishing the feel of him. The meeting of their lips shot warmth and regret through both of them. She broke away, intending to say something light, but the words never came.

"You know what to do," she whispered against his lips.

"No question of that, Captain." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and then strode away. He mounted the horse and gave her an unwavering nod, which she returned. She watched his back disappear into the night, willing him to return.

* * *

She had been scribbling, waiting for midnight to come, when the _Dutchman_ rocked violently and she ended up on the floor, dazed.

It was a seemingly unremarkable evening. She had not seen Captain Jones since their exchange two weeks previous but didn't find that out of the ordinary. He was adept at avoiding her for long periods of time. Not to mention, Jimmy had let it slip that they were making more trips to the mortal world. Their supernatural business was no worry of hers. At least that was what she told herself.

She feared the day she spied her son's face among the seamen they retrieved on the brink of death.

She shook the shock away and shifted to retrieve her papers when another powerful thud had her sliding into a stack of books so hard that they fell on top of her. She pushed them off with a soft curse and rose to her feet. She crossed the tiny room in a few strides and peered out of the porthole, wondering what was going on.

Through the muddy glass, she could see very little. She pulled up the sleeve of her dress to wipe at it and succeeding in making things marginally clearer.

On the other side of the porthole, she spotted three other ships. From her vantage point, their flags were large enough to be distinguishable; there were two Spanish ships against one English. The English ship barely held its own in the onslaught.

Watching grimly, she sent up a quick prayer that some of these men were able to see home again.

It had been a twist of fate that landed him within her sight. She'd had the thought that she did not want to watch what happened next. It had triggered all sorts of memories, including her last moments in the living world. For a split second, she thought it had been her husband. The profile of the man appeared awfully familiar, and the only possibility her bewildered brain produced had been her husband.

_But wait, this man was too young to be her husband…_

Her breath fled her and tears sprang to her eyes when she figured it out.

She said her son's name aloud and pressed her palm to the dirty glass. His faraway figure moved between her middle finger and her index finger as he fought against a Spanish navy man. _Please don't end up here. Fight **hard** , sweetheart. Your immortal soul depends upon it._

As if Fate sought to torment her, her greatest fear come to life. She sucked in an involuntary breath and let out one anguished syllable: _No!_

Before her movements had registered, she was banging on the door, clawing at it, willing it to give way and set her free. Her flesh broke under the strain but she ignored the pain. She didn't notice the clock ticking away, reminding her that Midnight had not yet arrived. She only had a solitary thought.

_Please don't let him die._

* * *

The shot was one of his last, but it felt good to best the man who possibly sent him to death. He felt his legs give out beneath him and when he collapsed to the wood, his bones knocked together in a painful jolt. The adrenaline was fading, leaving agony in its wake. He clutched his wound and felt the warmth of his own blood. This wasn't the first time. But would it be the last?

The world spun, rendering the running, battling figures askew in his vision. He heard someone call his name. A female voice. His brow furrowed. _Jess?_ No, this sounded nothing like his wife. He blinked the sweat from his eyes and looked around. His eye latched on a form in a pale hue standing a distance away.

Her skin appeared as unlined as it had the day…he had last seen her. Her dark hair seemed dark as midnight next to her unnaturally pale skin. The green of her eyes was so intense they nearly glowed. The hue of the blood on her hands also seemed extremely vivid in contrast. Her lips moved but the merciless fingers of unconsciousness threatened to take him, and he lost his hearing for a split second.

He felt a sudden, painful awareness as her voice and recognition hit him at the same time.

_Mother?_

* * *

On the upper deck of the _Dutchman_ , Jones whirled at the sound of the Librarian's voice. He had sent the crew to start rounding up the nearly-dead; with the sheer volume of prone bodies, he had wondered if he had been too late. Now, to make matters worse, _she_ had found her way up here, yelling her head off. Jones's eyes narrowed and his mouth set into a hard line. "Couldn't stay where ya belonged, could ya?"

The Librarian ignored the terrified men being shown onto the ship and focused on Jones. "Leave him alone, Captain," she ordered, her voice carrying over the shouts and the clash of metal. "We have a bargain. You keep me here. He goes free. There is no expiration on that."

His footfalls shook the vessel as he crossed the wood on his peg leg but she clenched her fists at her sides, letting the pain drive away any fear or unwavering. The blood pooled in her palm and dripped from her knuckles, staining her pale dress.

"And what good does this bargain bring for me, hmm?" Jones demanded. "Yeh've been nothing but a thorn in my side for over thirty years."

She regarded him with a glare. "Then it stands to reason you would have gotten rid of me already instead of having to deal with me for so long."

"What's thirty years against eternity?" Jones shot back. "No use in fighting fate, Librarian. He's mine. As it stands, he's been mine all his life." With that, he turned away from her and headed for the _Dauntless_.

"James, _no!_ " she shrieked.

* * *

Her anguished scream broke through the haze of pain and the loss of blood a moment before he found himself staring into the steely blue of Jones's eyes. "Do ya fear death, James Norrington?"

He gritted his teeth against the wave of cold. His mind's eye conjured an image of his wife nodding at him before he left. _You know what to do._ "That's...a silly question. I fear my wife more. And if I don't come home alive, you'll have to square it with her."

* * *

Aboard the _Dutchman_ , the Librarian swiped an abandoned musket and swung it upward. She pointed it in the direction of Jones's back and pulled the trigger before anyone could stop her.

The shot didn't hurt him, but it was enough to shift his attention. Maccus knocked the weapon out of her hand and took her in a vise-grip as Jones appeared, incensed. He stalked toward her as the blast-fractured skin began to knit together before her eyes.

"What'd'ya think yer doing?" he snapped. "Ya can't stop this."

"You can't have him!" she yelled. "You will not take him if I can do anything about it."

He bellowed in anger, shaking the ship. She let out a small gasp of surprise as she followed Jones's gaze and found the spot Commodore Norrington had occupied empty, save for a blood stain. _He got away._ The surprise morphed into relief. It didn't matter to her what happened next; her son was safe.

Predictably, Jones did not agree. He whirled toward her and lashed out with the vehemence and speed of a viper.

Pain bloomed on her cheek an instant before the darkness swallowed her whole.

* * *

Close to dawn, aboard the _HMS Providence_ , Victor Flynn closed the door to the lieutenant's quarters behind him and stood in place for several moments trying to gather his thoughts before addressing the two men who waited in his midst.

It had been a taxing few hours; the remaining crew members of the _Dauntless_ were forced to abandon the vessel and seek passage aboard the _HMS Providence_. Once they were on the ship, Flynn worked to stabilize the Commodore, and the Providence's naval physician had to offer his assistance. They could tell the ordeal had taken its toll on Flynn by the weary set of his shoulders. However, their concern remained with the man whose blood Flynn had on his sleeve.

"Is he alive?" Gillette asked.

Flynn inhaled deeply. "He asked...he asked..." The doctor shook his head. "I guess he was so close to death that he was hallucinating..."

Gillette shook his head sharply. "No need to emphasize that. I take it by your reply Commodore Norrington remains in the land of the living."

"Barely," Flynn confirmed. "What he needs right now is rest. He's lost a lot of blood, and I fear infection." He forced himself to breathe out. "I think when we reach land, we should send word to his wife."

Groves paled. Gillette remarked, "Perhaps we should revisit that when we do reach land. I don't know about you, Doctor, but I hesitate to worry Mrs. Norrington if there is no reason." They could read between the lines of what he was saying: _please don't bring that woman here if you don't have to._

Before Flynn could continue this debate with Gillette, Groves finally spoke. "What did he ask?" he wanted to know.

Flynn faltered noticeably, and several seconds passed before he was able to speak.

When he told them, the two shared a look of utter disbelief before Gillette dropped to the nearest seat and put his head in his hands.

* * *

He invaded her dreams without invitation, much like many of the images that assaulted her brain on a periodic basis. The stench of rotting fish clogged her lungs and she couldn't breathe. His voice, a sinister hiss, danced across her skin. She felt the shudder begin at the core of her until her whole body rocked with revulsion and fear.

_You don't...evade..._

_You can't...run..._

She awoke with a start, gasping for air. The balmy May breeze fluttered the drapes hanging in front of the open window, and the candle that Jasper left burning for her sputtered out. She raised a small, trembling hand to her cheek where the phantom touch of a slimy, scaly weight still lingered.

She looked across the floor at her auburn-haired roommate, who had not stirred a centimeter. Frightened and wanting comfort, she threw the covers from her legs and scampered out of the dark bedroom.

Her steps were light but quick. She sucked in a breath and held it, trying her best not to make a sound and wake anyone else. She also wanted to calm her thudding heart from leaping out of her chest. She reached the railing and paused at a strange sound. She knelt on the ground in an attempt to hide and peered through the bars at the foyer below. She spied the shadow of her uncle limping into his study and frowned.

The Commodore had left abruptly on an assignment four weeks ago after Helen's welcoming dinner, and her aunt had informed them he would be away for at least eight weeks. Abigail had caught the level of urgency that the matter was enough that the Commodore had to leave quickly.

_But why was he home now?_

She ran down the stairs as quickly as her small legs would allow, not caring if she made any noise.

He sat behind his desk, head in his hands. She could see the dull gleam of his brown hair in the near dark, and the white of his wig glowed from beside his left elbow. She blinked in confusion, for she rarely saw him without it.

"Uncle James?"

He looked up, startled at the sound of her voice, even as tiny as it was. She remained in place, absorbing his exhausted, pale visage and the fatigued set of his shoulders. She was shrewd enough to tell something was wrong.

The unspoken question hovered in the air, but he merely dropped his eyes and said nothing.

And then a sleepy, lower-pitched female voice came from above her head. "Abigail Josephine, why are you down here? You should be—" The sentence ended abruptly on a choked gasp.

James rose slowly from behind his desk as Abigail whirled to find her aunt, clad in the Commodore's night shirt with a head of mussed dark hair, standing in the doorway. As James rounded the desk, and they spied the state of his blood-stained waistcoat, more color was leached from her moonlit skin.

"James, what happened to you?" Jessica demanded in a hushed tone. She hefted Abigail onto her hip as he came closer. His green eyes were dull with exhaustion and grief as he neared. She reached out to touch the tears in his waistcoat with trembling fingertips. Tears sprang to her eyes when she met his. "Who did this?"

Before he could respond, Abigail, her violet-eyed stare vacant, suddenly uttered a phrase that had them both looking at her in horrified disbelief.

_No one escapes the Dutchman._

* * *

With Helen's bolstering presence, Abigail eventually went back to sleep, speaking no more cryptic statements. Assured that her niece would rest peacefully now, Jessica closed the window and brought the blanket up to their chins. She placed light kisses on their foreheads before leaving the room.

A bad feeling began in the pit of her stomach as she settled the door in the frame. That sense of foreboding increased as she walked down the hall toward her bedroom. Placing a hand on the knob, she inhaled deeply to steel herself. When she was sure she was strong enough, she opened the door.

When she had left to put Abigail to bed, her husband had still been in the torn waistcoat. She had poured him a brandy and ordered him to finish it before she returned. Shock had not released him and she needed him calm and rational. She had not given him much room to argue.

She peered at him now, leaned against the headboard and nursing the glass she had poured him. He wore his spare nightshirt. By the amount remaining in the glass, she estimated he'd consumed half of it. _Small victory_ , she mused and lowered herself next to him. She itched to embrace him, but he was not ready yet. If she touched him, he would break. They both would.

She exhaled, trying to give herself a moment to figure out where to begin. "There is something I need to tell you…" His eyebrows furrowed faintly. "…about Abigail." He said nothing, silently willing her to continue. "And when I finish telling you this, you _will_ tell me what happened." Pain flickered in his eyes and she firmed her resolve before it could slip. "Understood?"

He gave the barest of nods. She didn't press him for more.

"James, I am not sure if you have noticed, but Abigail is…not exactly an ordinary child," she explained. His head tilted very, very faintly as if to ask, _How?_ "She…possesses what I suspect is a touch of clairvoyance." When he began to look overly dubious, she prompted, "Remember the fire at Gaia House? She woke us up and we arrived not long after it truly began to spread, if you recall. At first I thought maybe she had sensed something because of Shannon but…" She shook her head, incredulous. "It sounds absolutely preposterous but—"

"There are plenty of things I am willing to consider now," James suddenly remarked in a quiet voice.

"So then," Jessica resumed firmly, "you grasp how this appears to me. Abigail, who has been reasonably fine up until this point, has a horrifying dream and suddenly you're home weeks before you're supposed to be, appearing that something has shaken you to your very core." She felt it, saw it, when the jolt of pain went through him. His eyes were vacant much as Abigail's had been some time before. He was adrift on a memory. She watched carefully for any sign she needed to pull him out.

Silence fell between them, its weight oppressive. She heard his soft, sharp breaths as he fought against the rising tide of emotion. Instinctively, she reached out. The first cracks manifested upon his face and a tear ran down his cheek.

"She sacrificed herself for me," James said so quietly that Jessica wasn't sure he had spoken until she spotted his lips move. "I should have been the one. He wishes I was."

_She sacrificed herself for me. I should have been the one. He wishes I was._ The simple statements carried so much grief and self-loathing that Jessica succumbed to the pull and allowed herself to touch him. First, she plucked the brandy out of his trembling hand, and after hastily putting it aside, she took him into her arms.

True to her prediction, they _did_ both break.

* * *

By the time Jessica resurfaced at dawn, she had a horrible headache and a low-grade urge to maim.

James Norrington was a man who prided himself on a handful of aspects of his personality. Among those aspects were his poise and professionalism, and his innate ability to compartmentalize when necessary. She understood the effect her love had on him, and as a substance changes properties after coming in contact with something else, the alchemy of who he was had changed. She admired him for many reasons and, much as she hated to admit it, sometimes sought refuge in his steadfast, unbendable nature.

So seeing him so broken, so utterly divested of his defenses, made her want to take up arms and raze the Earth until he was restored to his former self. When he wept in her arms, she wept with him, wishing she could fight this demon in his stead.

As the circumstances stood at this moment, she had no idea what this demon even _was_. The sense of powerlessness enraged her. She needed to do _something_. However, without facts, she had no perception of where to begin.

She left James briefly to visit Suzume in her cottage at the edge of the property. Still clad in his night shirt, she ignored her obvious state of undress and padded across the grass in the wooden _geta_ she kept at the door leading to the backyard. The sun had not completely rose, and the world was bathed in a grayish-blue light.

Before she could announce herself, a panel slid open, and Suzume appeared, clad in a black _yukata_ and bearing a shocked expression.

_"Mako-chan, daijobu ka?"_ she asked. _Are you all right?_

Wordlessly, Jessica shook her head. Suzume ushered her into the space and slid the panel closed.

Suzume asked no questions. After the panel shut them away from the outside world, Jessica's knees buckled and she all but collapsed to the floor. Suzume lowered herself beside Jessica and allowed her to rest her head in her lap. She sang a lulling song in Japanese as Jessica cried softly. The tears came steadily, hinting at a deep concern. Suzume also guessed she was too exhausted to expound any energy on fierce sobbing.

_watashi itsuka_  
_kono te no hira de_  
_anata no koto  
_ _subete kara mamoritai_

Suzume caressed her hair kept her own questions and concerns at bay. She gave the woman she considered a daughter what she needed, knowing that whatever was amiss would reveal itself in due time.

* * *

Sometime later, Jessica emerged, her headache calmer but she still felt the strain of fatigue behind her eyes. She reentered the house, removing the _geta_ and placing them in their designated spot. She heard Jasper moving around in the kitchen and headed toward the sound in barefeet.

Jasper took one look at her, noting her swollen eyes and blotchy skin, and his face fell in alarm. "Dear lord," he managed. "Milady—"

"The Commodore is here," she informed him, her voice rough. "He…" She pressed her lips together until the urge to sob passed. _She sacrificed herself for me._ "Please make sure he is not bothered. I…have an errand to run. I hope to return before he awakens."

"What happened?"

She sucked in a breath. "That's what I am hoping to find out." She placed a hand on the older man's shoulder. "As soon as I have the details, I will explain further, Jasper. But for right now…"

Jasper gave her a nod. "No explanation necessary, Mrs. Norrington. I will take care of him."

She squeezed his shoulder, gratitude mingling with the grief on her face. With that, she released her hold and walked away. Jasper watched her retreating back, worry gnawing a hole in his belly.

* * *

When she arrived at Fort Charles, the somberness was palpable and alarming.

She ventured to her husband's office, not wanting to get in the way, and waited. She guessed from the obviously thinned ranks that something tragic had occurred, but the event of the Commodore's wife visiting would make it to certain ears and she would be receiving a visit from—

She had paced the same steps in and out at least a hundred times and named all the constellations in alphabetical order up to Orion when the door opened abruptly.

She turned slowly after the door settled in the frame. She found herself face-to-face with a bruised and battered Gillette and Groves. She could discern from the set of their shoulders that neither had slept since they had returned to Port Royal. The three of them merely stared at one another for several moments, unsure where to begin.

"How many?" Jessica inquired, voice still rough from no use and bouts of crying.

"Too many," Gillette responded simply.

"The _Dauntless_?"

"At the bottom of the sea," Groves answered.

She closed her eyes and folded her lips together to keep from trembling. Suddenly her husband's grief began to make a little more sense. She shuddered out a curse on a windy breath, remembering how hard it had been to lose the _Diamond_ and knowing how much the _Dauntless_ had meant to him. She forced her eyes open and took a step closer to the Lieutenants.

"The Commodore returned in a state I have never seen him before, ever. Now you two know him better than anyone, possibly even me." Gillette blinked in surprise at the admission. "I understand how sensitive this predicament is for you. You have lost comrades, you have endured a hellacious journey and the _Dauntless_ is gone." The men shared a glance. "There is more to this than you're telling me."

Gillette dropped his gaze and stared at the floor, jaw clenching and unclenching. Groves turned away for a moment as if to collect himself.

"How bad?" she asked in a near whisper.

Gillette spoke, and Groves finally, slowly turned around. "I can't think of much else that would be worse, in his case." He raised his eyes to hers. "Except for something happening to you." She waited for him to continue. "A hundred miles off the coast of Saint Lucia, we were attacked by a couple of Spanish ships. We were fighting them off when...we saw the _Flying Dutchman_."

Cold washed over her, stiffening her spine, slackening her features. She could only claim catching a glimpse of the fabled _Flying Dutchman_ once her entire life _—_ and it was merely a glimpse. For them to have seen it unequivocally told her how dire things had been.

"They were close to taking him, Captain," Groves revealed quietly. "We are not sure what happened exactly, but...a woman intervened on his behalf and stopped Davy Jones and his crew."

"He also knew her, and she him," Gillette added. "He said he hadn't seen her in thirty-three years."

_A woman he hasn't seen in thirty-three years?_ Jessica's mouth parted to ask whom it was that intervened, but then his words came back to her, unbidden. _She sacrificed herself for me._ She. Herself. James Norrington had not felt strongly for another woman other than his wife, Elizabeth Swann, his grandmother and…

"His mother," she realized aloud. She sank down to the settee when her legs could no longer support her. Tears obstructed her vision as the realization became clearer. "Anne Norrington is trapped aboard the _Dutchman_."

The three of them existed in silence for a few minutes after that revelation. Suddenly, Gillette advised, "He didn't tell us what exactly transpired that…landed her there. He shut it down and shoved it into a corner and barely spoke on the way back here."

"Obviously it happened when he was a child," Groves said. "Because that's when she…"

Meanwhile, Jessica sifted through her memories, trying to recall if James had explained how his mother had died, but she found that, like she had, he had hoarded the information of his mother's demise close to him. _He wishes I was._ She had a hunch that Admiral Norrington had something to do with that tendency. Or possibly blamed his son for his mother's end.

_No one escapes the Dutchman._

She rose abruptly, fragments of perceptions knitting together into a larger conclusion. "You have to tell me everything you remember. And I mean _everything_. Your approximate location, what you did up until you were attacked—and leave nothing out."

* * *

Due to a visit from Suzume's talents, James was ensconced in a dreamless slumber for over a full day.

He awoke at that dark period between night and day. His gritty eyes adjusted quickly in the lack of light, and he could see the outline of his wife sleeping on her side next to him. His hand slid across the cool sheets to touch her. He felt the ends of her dark mane…and the unmistakable fabric of a man's vest.

He sat up sharply, his other hand grasping for…well, he hadn't been sure what. But his muddled brain had somehow known without telling him what to look for; his fingers gripped a match and he struck it against the bedside table, bringing light into the space.

What he saw nearly pushed all of the sleepiness from his head.

Jessica was still fully clothed, even in her knee-high boots. Her threads of choice were the aforementioned vest in dark red, high-waisted trousers in light brown, and an old tunic of his. She slept with her hands under her cheek but he could spy the ink on her fingertips. As if she had been writing. A lot.

He lit the candle so he could see the room better and blew out the match. Stomach filled with dread, he slowly rose, careful not to push himself too hard. He spied nothing amiss within their bedroom, so he shuffled toward the door.

The door opened soundlessly and he sent a silent thank you to Jasper for keeping the hinges oiled. His feet hit the cold wooden floor and he fought off the chill that threatened to travel up his body. He shined his candle into a room that they had not assigned any use. It had become a depository for random objects that didn't fit anywhere else, but he found the room a little more orderly than he remembered.

Curious, he crossed the threshold and entered the room.

The first thing he noticed that some of the chairs from the dining room had been brought in. The crates filled with their belongings had been pushed to the wall to leave the open space. The chairs had been turned to face the wall opposite the door. One of them had a stack of books upon the seat. He read the titles and shook his head. These had come from his study downstairs. He pressed his lips together in disapproval and continued his examination of the room.

When he spied what had been fixed to the wall, the cold he had been fighting off crept up his body and goosebumps broke out on his skin.

_Maps._ He reached out and fingered the edge of the heavy paper. _These are mine as well._ That meant that his wife had been extremely active while he had been unconscious. And she had obviously paid a visit to his office at Fort Charles.

_She knows._ He lifted his hand to a piece of paper that had been pinned to the map, off the coast of Saint Lucia. Where he had nearly died. _Sighting,_ was written in Jessica's hand on the scrap, and several others on the map. The pins were connected with thread. Someone with a skillful hand had tried to plot the phases of the moon with relation to the sightings of the _Dutchman_. _Full moon,_ he mused. Now that he thought about it, that final skirmish aboard the _Dauntless_...the moon was indeed in its full phase.

_We're a day shy of 28 days since..._ That meant it would happen again soon.

And the Captain was clearly planning to orchestrate a meeting with the supernatural ship. No wonder she had been fully clothed.

_James, **no**!_

Anger and determination rippling through him and he tore the maps from the wall so hard he was surprised they did not rip in half. Pins tinkled to the floor and he ignored them.

He could _not_ allow that to happen.

* * *

"He did _**what**_?!"

There were few women in the world that inspired fear within the heart of Edmund Jasper. Until this moment, he had thought he had left those fearsome women behind. Now he had to add Jessica Catherine Thomas Norrington to the list.

They were gathered in the dining room. Jasper had just informed the Captain that the Commodore had left the house very early that morning and was, most likely as they spoke, setting off to revisit his mission. Abigail perched in her chair nervously, while Helen watched the outburst with a smidgen of fascination. Suzume and Kaneshi shared a look, wondering if they were going to have to dig a hole in the backyard to bury the Commodore in.

"I'm sorry, milady," Jasper said. "If I had known _—_ "

Jessica sucked in a breath to give herself time to control her emotions and then forced it out slowly. "I am hardly leaving you to blame, Jasper. You cannot control the Commodore." Some of the fury left her face, thoughtfulness replacing it. "You can only challenge him." Kaneshi quirked an eyebrow at the about-face. "Lieutenants, with me."

* * *

The _HMS Interceptor_ and the dock beside buzzed with movement. As soon as the Commodore had arrived early that morning, his only focus was to get the _Interceptor_ ready to set sail. Accepting the orders given, his crew immersed themselves in the work without wallowing in melancholy. Instead, the men allowed it to fuel them even though only three of them knew what exactly the mission was.

Commodore Norrington possessed his maps with Jessica's additions and walked aboard with them under his arm. At the thought of the Captain, he felt a pang for leaving her behind without warning, but he knew if he had told her his intentions, she would insist on coming along.

Beside him when the _Interceptor_ sailed away from Port Royal, Gillette witnessed his small sigh of relief.

"How bad do you think it'll be, sir?" he asked. When Norrington frowned a bit, he added, "Will she really be that upset?"

"Oh I imagine when I return—that is, if she allows me back into the house—all of my breeches will have the seats cut out of them in spite." Gillette raised an eyebrow. "But at least she'll be alive."

"I...wouldn't be so sure of that, sir."

Norrington peered at him in bewilderment. Gillette, expression full of chagrin, nodded over Norrington's shoulder. Frowning, Norrington turned and looked in the direction that Gillette had nodded. Gillette watched his face change, expression going from shocked, then slightly scared, and finally to anger.

As Norrington stalked away, Gillette shook his head in consternation at the possible altercation that was to come.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the deck below, Lieutenant Groves spotted a familiar mane of dark hair amidst the powdered wigs and tricorn hats. Wondering how he missed this stowaway, he walked up to the woman speaking with two officers.

"The Commodore told us you would be staying home," Groves informed the woman in his midst.

Jessica turned away from Murtogg and Mullroy and regarded him with her arms over her chest. "The Commodore _hoped_ I would stay at home." When Groves looked utterly flabbergasted, she gave him a consolatory pat on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it, mate. If he yells, I will handle him."

"And if I refuse to be handled?"

At the sound of the familiar baritone voice from behind her, Jessica cast her eyes to the sky in exasperation before turning around. Groves cleared his throat and tried to find the fine line between not _trying_ to look and outright eavesdropping.

"You are quite confident in your abilities, Mrs. Norrington," the Commodore remarked in a cool tone.

She cocked an insolent eyebrow at him. "And so are you," she shot back. When irritation flashed in his eyes, she addressed their spectators. "If you would excuse us, I need to speak with the Commodore in private."

When they got to the captain's quarters, Jessica settled the door in the frame. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of slamming it. She gave a short puff of breath and she spoke hurriedly before he could even form words.

"You will not talk me out of this, James Norrington," she told him bluntly. "Nor will you turn this vessel around or find some other crew to take me back to Port Royal."

Feeling close to his breaking point, he stepped into her path. She looked at him with surprise. "Stop," he commanded simply. "You have done enough." Indignation spread throughout her features. "The last thing you will do right now is put yourself in a position where you could land in trouble or worse." She began to protest but he cut her off. "No. I refuse to allow you to be in any danger." He spun away toward the door as her eyes filled. "This mission is mine to execute and I hardly need your assistance which is why I left in the manner I did."

"I am _not_ some hapless female, Commodore." The shakiness of her voice took the sting out of the bitterness in her tone.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob, willing himself not to turn. He knew that if he turned he would see her tears, and he hated seeing her cry. "No, you are the eventual mother of my children and I would like to keep it that way." He squared his shoulders and turned the knob before she could respond.

He heard the sword sliding against the sheath as it came free an instant before he felt the point of it at the side of his neck. "And I can't do a damn thing without the eventual father of mine. So before you tread down that path, Commodore, remember this flows _both_ ways. As much as you would like to protect me _—_ "

"I can't lose you, too," James interrupted through gritted teeth as he turned back toward her. "What do I have to tell you to make you understand?"

His words knocked the wind from her like a blow to the midsection. Jessica slid the sword back into its sheath in a smooth move that was some parts the Captain, some parts the Commodore, and stepped up to him as he turned until they were toe to toe.

"And I hardly intend to let you," she said in a subdued tone. When she saw his jaw relax fractionally, she added with an insouciant tilt of her head, "Do you think you can get rid of me that easily, Commodore Norrington? We've slain dragons, pirate captains, avaricious little men, and personal demons together. I don't think Davy Jones will present much of a problem for us."

The moments eked by, and the more of them that piled up, the more that she became sure she had won. Dropping his eyes to a spot in the vicinity of her belly button, he raised a shaking hand. She watched with bewilderment as he placed his palm flat along her lower abdomen. Conflicting emotions lingered in those olive depths before he pushed them aside. When his eyes raised to hers, he matched her resolve. The gesture and his expression had her doubly confused.

"Promise me. If things start to take a turn for the worst, you will find a way to get to safety," he said.

_Oh no. He can't make me—_ "I won't leave you, James—" she attempted.

_"Promise me,"_ he ordered fiercely. "I will not take anything less than your agreement." She opened her mouth to argue but he blurted, "This isn't about just _you_ anymore, Captain."

She faltered, and took half a step backward. His palm slipped from her abdomen and his blank face slipped into place. Her mind raced, attempting to discern his meaning. _Abigail and Helen_ , she realized inwardly. They were still young, and neither needed to lose her. She gazed at her husband's back as he walked away. However, she felt they couldn't stand to lose him either.

He thought of them, too, but he was also considering one other thing.

"We're in accord," she murmured.

* * *

She surfaced from the darkness with a jolt. As she raised herself to a sitting position, she felt the weight of iron around her neck coupled with the throbbing of her left cheekbone. Frantically she brought her hands up above her shoulders. Her fingertips discovered the cold metal attached to chains running down her back and she gasped in horror.

"Yeh've no one to blame but yerself, Librarian." She looked up sharply at the voice. She realized she was in Jones's domain. She spied the pipe organ behind him as he stalked toward her. "My rules were clear, were they not? Y'er never to meddle in my affairs. Ya can read yer bloody fairy tales to the crew, baby their hurts and listen to their _insipid_ stories of lives they will never return to—but y'ell never, _ever_ fancy yerself an arbiter of my fate."

"So this was your plan all along." This was not a question. It spilled over her lips with bitter certainty. "You only kept me while he grew up, became a Captain." Bitter tears pooled in her eyes. "You were never going to leave him alone."

"And what sort of bargain didja expect me to keep, Librarian?"

Anne rose abruptly without realizing the move was ill-advised. As soon as she stood on her feet, she was yanked unceremoniously across the wood. She realized belatedly that the shackle on her ankle had been removed.

"Whether or not you agree, you have _some_ degree of honor, Captain Jones," she said in a tone raspy from the strain to her neck. "Otherwise you would have taken my son and raised him here thirty-three years ago to replace you." Something unidentifiable flickered in Jones's pale eyes. "I am attempting to appeal—"

He tightened the chain around his hand and the shackle pressed against her throat hard enough to make it momentarily hard for her to breathe. "Don't bother," he told her. He released the chain and she stumbled back onto her heels, gasping. "If ya haven't already heard...my heart is _long gone_."

* * *

They avoided one another for several hours but oddly kept each other within seeing distance. It was into the evening when she approached him, both frustrated at him for keeping his distance and at herself for having to break the ice.

"You took my maps," she remarked idly.

He kept his gaze ahead of him. "They were necessary. The idea was that I would take care of this, Mrs. Norrington. So yes, I needed them."

"And what would you have had Gillette and Groves tell me if you didn't come back, hmm?" Guilt flickered in those green depths. "If you'd ended up dead?" She swallowed hard, and her voice possessed a slight tremor. "Do you know how much it would have killed me not to say goodbye?"

"This is not the best place for you, Jessica," Norrington told her.

"You still don't get it," she said quietly, shaking her head in disappointment.

"No," he disagreed. "I understand you clearly." He slowly raised a hand to her face and turned her toward him. "You scare me sometimes, Jess. I have no doubt whatsoever of your strength or the fervor of your love for me. In a situation like this, I..." He blinked rapidly and avoided looking at her. "I...don't want to give you the opportunity to sacrifice yourself for me. Not like..."

He couldn't form the words aloud, but she knew whom he meant. _His mother,_ she thought. He was trying to keep her from turning out like his mother. Stranded on a ghost ship without a way out because she had been trying to give him the chance to live.

She thumbed away the pair of tears that had spilled onto his cheeks before anyone could see him. She knew he had his pride. She examined his face, a question on her lips. It tumbled out before she could stop it.

"What was she like?"

He turned back toward the rail, lost in thought. She brushed his hand with hers and much to her surprise he linked his fingers with hers. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

"She was not a woman of many frills. She existed primly, without adornment." His throat moved as he swallowed once, hard. "She carried me like I was the most precious thing she owned." He looked ahead, watching the horizon as they cut a wide swath through the sea. "Her marriage to my father was arranged by their families. She was the only daughter from a wealthy family, and her brothers were already married. My father's father had died not long after he was born, leaving my grandmother to rear him."

"Are you in contact with your uncles?" Jessica inquired.

Norrington shook his head. "They both passed away before I reached adolescence. My mother was nearly two decades younger than her brothers and she didn't have much of a relationship with either of them. I admit I haven't taken the time to find their progeny."

She stared at the side of his face, head at a slight incline. "Would you like to do it now?" He peered at her sharply as if the idea was radical, absurd. She stared back expectantly.

"Sir!" The call from the crow's nest diverted their attention from the past. "There's a ship out there!"

"Is it the _Dutchman_?" Norrington asked.

"No!" the officer called back. "It looks like...a regular ship, but abandoned, sir!"

The Commodore and Captain shared a look, remembering a similar situation when they were searching for Claudia and Elizabeth, except this time, at least the ship was intact. "I know what you're going to say, Captain," Norrington told her in a begrudging tone.

"Good," Jessica said. "Then we don't have to have that argument again. So why don't you just agree with me and save us some time?"

After a windy sigh, he bellowed the order for two long longboats to go inspect the ship and bring back any survivors. When Jessica headed toward the longboats as if that was where she belonged, Norrington reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. When she fumed at him, he gave a decisive shake of his head and pointed to the empty spot next to him.

She occupied the spot, but her expression spoke volumes of her unwillingness.

"You say you worry about me, Captain, and alternatively I worry about you. So perhaps it would be safer if we waited here together."

She crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing. They waited for nearly an hour before the longboats returned.

"We found two survivors," Gillette told him as soon as he placed his feet on the wood. "They're bringing the first up now." He turned to watch the progress and couldn't mask the unease he felt. Eyes narrowing a touch, the Commodore tilted his head very slightly and waited until Gillette looked at him again.

"Is there anything else I need to know, Lieutenant?" Norrington wanted to know.

When Gillette didn't respond, instead looking at the Commodore with a meaningful look in his eyes, Jessica cocked an eyebrow and looked back and forth in between them. Norrington walked toward the starboard side of the ship, At that moment, Murtogg and Mullroy helped a slightly shorter young man dressed in a battered midshipman's uniform. At the sight of their commanding officer, Murtogg and Mullroy snapped into ramrod straight stances.

"Report," Norrington commanded.

"This is Midshipman Griffin from the _Regnant_ , sir," Murtogg responded.

Norrington laid a look of concern upon the trembling young man. "Midshipman Griffin, what was the business of the _Regnant_ out here?"

Griffin had no time to answer; a deep, booming voice from behind Murtogg and Mullroy answered the question for him. "Their business, sir, was me."

Everyone stilled as a tall man appeared. He was dressed in a dark blue hue embroidered with gold thread. His powdered wig sat on his head fixed and unruffled by the journey. His cane tapped out an irregular beat to his steps as he neared and finally stopped. Within his lined face, his gray eyes contained a gleam of anticipation. Norrington froze at the sight of him.

"Well, good evening, Commodore," the older man said. "We meet again after far too many years."

Jessica picked up the vibes immediately and looked to her husband with wide eyes, awaiting his reaction. She felt the overwhelming urge to take his hand in a show of support, but she was wary of calling attention to herself without being able to identify why. Behind her and to her alternate side, Groves and the men who had assisted Griffin onto the _Interceptor_ kept their eyes on the older man. For that humming moment before Norrington's response met their ears, the older man maintained his focus on the officer in his midst.

"Father," Norrington said, the one word fraught with years of neglect, insecurity, and bitterness.

* * *

**The Dutchman Playlist**  
 _"Pretty Please (Love Me)" - Estelle  
"Take Me Home" - Spice Girls  
"Ah" - Superfly  
"Tsuki no Ie" - Arai Akino  
_ _"Say (All I Need)" - One Republic_  
"Oh Father" - Madonna

* * *

***Someday, I want to  
** **protect you from everything,  
** **cradled in the palm of my hands.**

_The translation and transliteration of these lyrics are not mine._

* * *

 


End file.
